#I just wanna RUB SOME SALVE INTO THEM!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

insomniamamma · 1 year

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Gravity: Ezra x f!reader

A/n: Written for my year of kisses. @yearofcreation2023 The prompt is a kiss on the eyelids, and I originally intended to write it for Boba Fett (which I may still do) but then I rewatched Prospect and gave myself the yearns. Title inspired by this song. This jumps around in time.

Warnings: Much flirting and fluff. Reader has unspecified medical condition that keeps her from going to space. Ezra needs his own warning. Medical treatment. References to sickness and medical procedures. References to sex but nothing explicit.

Ezra hums contentedly beneath your hands. Shirtless and tilted backwards over the deep sink, towel draped around his sun-freckled shoulders. He positively purrs as you smooth the conditioner through his curls, scratching lightly over his scalp, tugging, but just a little. Real shampoo and conditioner are an imported nicety, expensive and not often used. Seems a shame to so thoroughly clean his hair only to shear so much of it off.

Long hair is a pain in the ass when you’re doing suit work, a pain in the ass in microgravity. You can tie it back but if it comes lose, you have random threads sweat-plastered to your face or tickling your nose or nape or eyebrow without being able to fix it. You don’t know this from your own experience. Born sickly, you could not follow your brothers off world, never as strong as them, failed the g-tests and the orientation tests and the flight instructor took you aside, look, you get the right combo of meds and cautery and you might be able to work a tug or a yard-switcher up to the Bench, but you’re not gonna get out of this well.

So you stayed. Da long gone, died way out towards the end of the Great Arm. And your brothers faded out of your life one by one by one. Once in a while you’d get packet drops, grainy vids squirted between can-haulers and freighters, a game of telephone that stretched the length of the Great Arm, but those became less and less. Even after contact waned, the points would still accrue in the family account, remittance from Kevva knows where. Until they didn’t. Faded out of your lives like comets flaring bright before slinging out into the black. You stayed behind and made due.

Learned the herbalist’s trade from your Ma who learned it from her Ma as far back as your first kin who colonized here, who built the house you live in now, who planted the gardens that provide food and medicines. Leaves and flowers and roots all diagrammed out, with their varied dangers and uses recipes for salves and tinctures and dyes, soaps, meticulously drawn and copied out from Ma’s book into one that you stitched and bound yourself. A right of passage of sorts, preserve what’s come before and add your own knowledge. The last few entries of your Ma’s book near illegible, from when the Wandering Sickness took her ability to write, a hash of Central glyph-speak and her own short-hand.

Ma had been gone for about a year when you met Ezra, or rather, when someone in town took pity on Ezra and sent him to your door. He was naked from the waist up skin blotched in swollen, crimson wheals. You shake your head. Off-worlders never learn. “I must apologize for my state of disarray,” he says, “The rubbing of my shirt seams became unbearable on my walk from town. I seem to have an allergy to the local flora.” He speaks a lilting off-world accent. One eye is red and puffed into a narrow slit, looks like he’s winking at you. “Humbleweed,” you say, “Looks like you rolled in the stuff. Come on in, spacer, lets get you fixed up.” “It’s called humbleweed because it puts people fool enough to touch it in their place?” “That’s right,” you say, leading him inside, “Wanna tell me how you got coated in it?” “Me and my crewmates are camped out along yonder lake. We were passing around a bottle of firewater and got to tussling. Not unfriendly like, but I took a bad step into some bushes. Didn’t think much of it at the time—“ “Please tell me none of you were stupid enough to throw any of that mess in a campfire.” “No, Ma’am, there was bone dry drift wood a-plenty.” “Good because the smoke would make your lungs do the same thing that’s happening with your skin, and we’d be calling for a dropper.” “That sounds most unpleasant,” he says, and you gesture towards the large, hammered metal tub. “Strip,” you say, “And hop in.” You say, fetching a rusty metal canister and a scrub brush from the shelf. You pull on some disposable gloves. An imported nicety, but you don’t want humbleweed resin getting under your own nails. “Ezra.” “What?” “My name is Ezra, and I’d like to know yours before you see my nether regions.” You laugh. This big, swaggering spacer with his odd, archaic way of speaking is shy. Damned if you don’t see his ears and cheeks going red. You tell him your name and rest a gloved hand on his upper arm. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen, okay? Unless they build men different further down the Arm. Give me your clothes. We’ll need to treat and wash them too.” Ezra reluctantly peels down. The worst of the rash is on his upper half, but there’s a particularly nasty line of welts around his waist, snaking down along the soft swell of his belly, telltale lines where he scratched at it in his sleep, got the sap under his nails and dragged it around, unthinking. He stands stone still while you run your gloved hands over him, checking places he wouldn’t think to check himself, armpits and the soles of his feet and juncture of hip and thigh, squirms under your touch. “I’m sorry—“ he says, red faced— “No need,” you say, “I once treated a man who was fool enough to wipe his ass with the leaves. He waited until it all blistered up to get help—“ You push the metal canister and scrub brush into his hands. “You sluice this over the red patches and scrub, clear? It’ll sting some—“ “This smells like engine degreaser.” “It is engine degreaser,” you say, “But it’ll do the job. Let me get your face though. Don’t want you getting this in your eyes. Get what you can reach and I’ll take care of your clothes, yeah?” His clothing goes in the deep sink, warm water and a generous pour of degreaser. You can’t help but look at him, his back to you, all broad freckled shoulders and red, puckered scars, tells of a spacer’s life, trying to reach over the curve of his own spine with the scrub brush. “Miss? Ma’am? I can’t quite—“ You find yourself smiling, take the scrub brush and canister from him, pour a cold rill down his spine and scrub, and he shudders. “Stings.” “I know.”

He flinches when you bring the degreaser soaked cloth to his face, draws back, his eye a puffed red slit leaking tears, his hands circle your wrists, stilling you. “Ezra. You need to let me do this.” “Perhaps this can wait for the Bench, this may be beyond what you can do here, not saying that I mistrust your skills or judgement but—“ “Look up. You see that bundle of Kind Sister? The star shaped flowers?” “Yes, but I don’t- “Look up and hold still. You keep your eyes right there.” You wipe the degreaser over the puffed skin below his eye, and you can feel the tension in him, thrumming beneath his skin. “Breathe, handsome, I’ve done this many times.” “It’s not that I don’t trust—“ “Just keep looking up.” “Burns a little.” “It will.” You dab the cloth over his skin, right up to the fringe of his lashes. “Close.” “I don’t think—“ “Don’t need you to think. Close your eyes.” He feels the chill on his eyelids and flinches away. “Sssshhhhh. Hold still. Not gonna hurt you.” He stills and lets you wipe his eyes with the degreaser, and you can’t help but admire the way his dark lashes fall against his cheeks.

“You’re unsettled.” “Maybe I don’t want to shear off these pretty curls.” You thread your fingers through his hair and raise the scissors to start cutting, but his hand curves around your wrist. “You’ve not been this unsettled before,” says Ezra, “Talk to me Gentle, tell me what’s bothering you.” And you can’t help but smile, his nickname for you always manages to make your chest tighten, someplace between swelling love and crippling fear, presses his lips to the soft skin of your wrist where the veins rest so close. “You’re going so far this time, and you know I can’t go after you if things go wrong—“ “The risk is greater, but the reward is….” he trails off, fingers tracing the landscape of your knuckles. Ezra has words for everything, three words when one will do, and to hear him go silent, to see him search for words feels wrong, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t. He draws inward for a beat and then those dark eyes find yours. “The reward is such that I could stop my rambling ways. If we find what we suspect is there.” “You’re saying you’ll stay.” “I am.” The shiny scissors in your hand tremble, sending little arcs of light across the rough hewn walls. “You’ll come down the well. For keeps.” “For keeps, Gentle Hands. My heart already resides here. I finish this job? You’ll have all of me. For as long as you can put up with my nonsense.” Your hands still. Dread replaced by spreading warmth. You smile. “You’d be surprised at how much of your nonsense I can tolerate.”

“Oh, Kevva,” Ezra sighs and sags against you, “You are surely one of Her kind sisters. She has given you the touch, the blessing—“ You lightly slap his cheek with a gloved hand. “Don’t you go boneless on me, handsome.” You’ve been liberally coating the red wheals and rising blisters with a salve of kind sister, sersath and bird-eye berry. This salve counters the miserable itch of humbleweed, and triggers a kind of euphoric sedation in maybe one in five people you’ve treated. “You’re having a strong reaction. It’s not dangerous. Kevva’s just smiling on you. That’s all. You’ll feel right as rain in about a sixteenth. Hey! You go limp and I will not heave your ass off this floor.” “I will gladly spend the rest of my days gazing up in admiration.” “Hmmmm. Might hold you to that, pretty spacer.” “Would give my life into your gentle hands,” “Okay. Okay, let’s get you settled,” You steer Ezra naked and greasy towards a fresh-sheeted cot you keep against one wall, just in case. He’s not the first stray to rest there a spell and surely won’t be the last. He stretches himself out like a cat lounging in a sunbeam, yawning hugely, even covered in angry red wheals and pinkish goo he’s quite the sight. Pretty man, you think, too bad I’ll probably never see him again. “y’can look all you want, Gentle Hands,” he mumbles, and you feel your face go hot, “I don’t- I don’t mind.” “Here,” you say, pulling the top sheet up to his chest, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--“ His hand finds yours, warm and enfolding. “Gentle Hands,” he says, but his eyes are already closed, his holding hand already letting go, dropping away from yours, arm dangling stiffly off the edge of the cot, “Kind heart.” And you know it’s the salve, maybe you’ve got the proportions wrong, the strength of the bird-eye berry varies depending on where it’s picked. Have to pay more attention next time, or maybe this pretty spacer just reacts stronger than most for a whole slew of reasons that have nothing to do with you. Ezra snores. You smile and lay his hand over his chest so his arm doesn’t fall asleep. And then go to fetch his clothes from the deep sink so you can rinse them out.

You thread your fingers through his hair and cut like you’ve done many times before. Always makes you a little sad, seeing the curls he’s grown in his time with you piled on the floor in front of the deep sink. Ezra luxuriates under your touch, relishes the feel of your hands carding through his curls, tugging, measuring with the width of your fingers, ruffling his hair this way and that, making sure things are even. You’ve done this for your brothers and now you do it for your lover. Brush the stray bits of hair from his shoulders, letting your hands wander the breadth of him, tuck yourself into the join of his shoulder and neck and his arms come up around you, cradling you against him, the two of you swaying together. I’ll be back before you know it.

Ezra finds you in the front garden says your name and snaps you out of your reverie, the muscle-memory motions of removing errant weeds and dead leaves. You stand and wipe the dirt on your pants and turn to look at him, feel yourself grin. He’s wrapped the top sheet around himself like a toga, shuffles along the walk like a newborn calf, a bit unsteady and blinking in the bright sunlight. The swelling around his eye has already gone down significantly. “Ezra. How you feeling?” “A little tingly,” he says, “A little foggy headed, truth be told, I don’t recall dozing off. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you-“ “You haven’t,” you walk the narrow path through the herb beds to where his clothes hang on the line. You frown. “Still damp. Come on. I think I’ve got something that might fit you. Don’t want to send you back into town with a wet ass.” You move to herd him back into the house, but he stops you, his hand curled gently around your wrist. “I, uh, I worry that I may have said something untoward,” says Ezra, “My mouth has a tendency to run along on it’s own and Kevva knows I have not experienced such gentle care in a whole heap of stand-months--“ “You flirted with me a little,” you say and feel yourself smile, he drops your wrist but you catch his hand in yours before he can pull away, “But I flirted right back.” “Did you now?” “Mmm-hmm.”

Ezra kisses you in that slow way of his, soft press of his lips to yours, his way of lingering, lips hovering over yours sharing breath between kisses, soft pecks and nuzzles, coaxing your lips apart so he can dip his tongue between them, his hands sliding warm beneath the hem of your shirt and when he breaks away so he can dip his face into the curve of your neck to nip at that tender place below your ear, you push him back, a firm hand on his chest. “No.” His brow knits, but his eyes are smiling. “No?” “Go shower off, Ezra. I don’t want all those little stray hairs in my nice clean sheets.” “Those sheets won’t be clean for long, Gentle Hands,” “Doesn’t mean I want to be all scratchy while we’re making a mess of them. Go on now.”

“This isn’t right,” you say, poking at the screen of your much repaired data-pad, “This is far more than what we agreed on.” “You’ve taken very good care of me,” says Ezra. He’s dressed in clothes your middle brother left behind, his own folded into a bundle and tucked under his arm. You reject the transaction. “I take very good care of everyone, Ezra, it’s my job.” “Still I spent a quarter cycle snoring away in your great room,” he says, “I expect most others would have roused me and sent me down the road. I wish to repay you for your kindness.” “I don’t need payment for that. Not with points anyway.” Ezra smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You got some other currency in mind?” “Maybe. You’re not boosting tonight are you?” “No,” he says, “We’re hopping the Magra-Tripoint line. Don’t need to hit the bench for three cycles and a little. You got something in mind, Gentle Hands?” You feel blood rise in your cheeks, something about his newly minted name for the you and the way he says it, lilt and rumble of his voice holding something that could be want, something that pulls on you, maybe a cycle or so of fun with a pretty man, but maybe something more. “There’s live music in the square tonight,” you say, “They usually start up around dusk--“ and you feel suddenly shy. Ezra’s a spacer, he’s been places you probably can’t imagine. “It’s not that weird twitchy shit coming out of Central these days is it?” You laugh. “No, nothing like that. What do you say? Take a girl dancing?” “I would be honored,” says Ezra, “But I’ll have you know that I am a terrible dancer.” “The steps are easy. I’ll show you.” “I look forward to it,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the square at sun-down.”

You have to go into town anyway. You sell your wares at the general store. Balms and salves and tinctures and teas, bird-eye berry gel for teething babies, kind sister and chamomile for sleepless nights. Callie takes her cut, but that’s the price of not having to man your own shop. Everyone in town knows to send the severe cases your way, and otherwise leave you be. There are always a few special orders, things not entirely above board, a powder made of bloodspot spores that will end a pregnancy, opium and bird eye berry dried and made into a tea that can ease someone’s passing with few questions. Giggle-weed infused syrup to help a man get hard, everything passed out in folded envelopes, dark glass jars,blank and innocuous. You do your rounds and make your way to the square, watch the first band set up. A cello imported from Kevva knows where, goatskin drums, a flute carved from a reaper-bird’s hind strut. Rough made guitars. You scan around the square and see the usual faces. There’s a couple of nightclubs closer to the docks, places where the spacers go and you imagine him there. Little prickling like a thorn inside your chest. Never going to see him again anyway so what does it matter?

“Well, there you are!” You turn from the pint of cider you’ve been nursing and smile. “Ezra! Wasn’t sure I’d see you!!” You stand and he pulls you into a strong embrace, and then holds you at arms length. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you either,” he says, “Pretty lady who soothed my hurts and listened to my yap and saw my pale and unimpressive ass? I’m surprised you didn’t run for the hills.” “I knew you’d be pretty once the swelling went down.” “You clean up nice, too.” You wonder for a second if he’s making fun, traded your usual workday clothes for your favorite dress, not fancy by off-world standards, river-linen dyed summer sky blue, but there’s no judgement in his eyes and widening smile, just warmth, slides his palms down your arms and squeezes your hands in his. The band plays and the caller names the steps, and people swing their partners and turn and Ezra’s face tightens. “This looks unduly complicated,” “Let’s get some cider in you. It won’t seem so complicated then.” “If you say so, Gentle Hands.” “I do say so. Just watch for a bit and then let me lead.”

Despite your best efforts, Ezra is truly a terrible dancer, the reels and jigs and square dances see him dazed, unable to tell his right from his left and after one particularly disastrous dance the two of you collapse into each other, laughing, clinging to each other and then the band starts a slow one, which means that the caller picks at his guitar and sings a song of lost love while the rest of the band hit the bar and give everyone else a chance to catch their breath. A handful of couples make their way to the floor, and Ezra holds his hand out to you. “This is a dance I know, if you’d do me the honor.”

You expect you’ll never see him again. You’ve come to regard the spacers you meet as spring-sprites, all sun glittered wings, pulling themselves out of the mud only to live a hand of cycles and then vanish. He’ll persist in your thoughts for a bit, this pretty man with his odd way of speaking and his lovely dark eyes, but once he leaves the well he’ll fade like they all do, become a tender memory and nothing more, but for now you ache pleasantly from his attentions. The dock is swarmed with clotted crews of spacers, stacks of luggage, piles of gear waiting to be loaded, low hiss of regulator-valves triggering along the snake-work of cable leading from the tanks to the transfer ship, a squat soot-stained wedge, plated in dingy heat-tiles like a fish’s scales. You suspect this craft is older than you. “This isn’t goodbye, you know,” says Ezra, and your heart squeezes. You’ve heard this before. A delirious hand of cycles, but they always go and they never come back and most times you are able to guard your heart, but not this time, not with him, and your usual glib response doesn’t come. “Ezra, I—we—it’s not?“ He reaches for you and cradles your face in his warm, rough hands, and you expect to feel his lips on yours, his mouth hungry and fever hot, but instead he stretches up and kisses your forehead, and something inside you tugs, pulls, cries out at this unexpected tenderness, tears sting your eyes so you close them, as his breath fans warm over your skin. Ezra kisses your closed eyes, right then left and then rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you again, Gentle Hands,” he says and pulls you into a crushing hug, and then the deck hand calls out a string of numbers over an intercom, balky speakers strung up on wooden poles all around the port and he’s gone into the surging crowd.

Ezra sings in the shower. He always does and Kevva have mercy that man can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Sweep his damp, shorn curls into a little pile to be scooped up and sprinkled into the garden beds, human scent revolting to the local fauna, but then it screams up at you, a little curl of starlight among the tangled dark, little twist of white hair cut from his temple that you so like to twine your fingers through, now discarded. You bend and pick the damp curl of hair from the floor and roll it between your fingers. You move almost without thinking, tuck that little curl into an envelope you usually use for dry herb blends, fold it closed and hold it in your hands a beat, press it to your chest, and then laugh at yourself. Ezra will come back.

He always comes back.

#prospect #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #year of kisses #year of themes 2023

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sunset-peril · 7 months

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Link, Wolfbred King - Chapter Two

“Good morning, Link.”

He awoke to the most wonderful scratching of his ears. “Morning, Zels.”

“Zelda Ivee said you two had a fun night last night.”

“Yeah, well I broke Cece and Reede up again before they started fighting.” He tried to stretch himself out, but his wife held him down.

“Zelda Ivee? Could you get the herb salve for your father?”

“Yes, Momma!” The small child hopped off the foot of her parent’s bed, where she’d been sleeping the night before, and headed down to the kitchenette to retrieve her father’s salve.

“Honestly, Link, you need to stay out of their business. Reede’s lived this Hyrule longer than you have, and he’s a little less… volatile.”

“He’s a pushover, Zelda. He’ll do the show by confronting her, but won’t do the work of restoring peace.”

“Link.” She grasped his face. “You cannot keep acting like the town’s overlord. You are better than this.”

“But she's not.”

“Momma! I brought the salve for Daddy!”

“Thank you, dear.” Zelda took the salve gently from her. “Would you go see if the horses still have water? I can refill the troughs in a moment if they are empty.”

“Yes, Momma!” Once the little girl had gone out the front door, Zelda gripped her husband’s face hard enough that couldn't turn away. “Link.” She stared into his eyes until he began to lean away from her. “I know you’re hurting. But that does not give you permission to act like this. You are very quickly emulating the very behaviors you overthrew a century ago. Do not turn my husband into my father. You are better than this.” She released his face, then opened the salve and began to rub it onto Link’s elbows. “Cece is no Shamia. She has no true influence. You are King, my dear, and I can’t have you destroying yourself before our kingdom is restored. You reunited Hyrule’s tribes in your quest to free the Beasts, and that is inclusive of the Wolfbred.”

“The horsies are good, Momma! Can I help Daddy?”

“Thank you! Of course you may. Bring the mighty thistle milk, will you?”

The toddler quickly grabbed the bottle and ran up the stairs. “Got it, Momma!” She held out the bottle so her mother could de-cork it, then handed it to her father. “Here you go, Daddy!”

“Mmm, thank you, princess.” He tipped it back once, then set the bottle and his head down.

“Feeling better?”

“I’m alright. Your momma’s taking good care of me, and so are you.”

“...You can still see me, right?”

“Of course, I’m looking right at you!” He kissed her tiny forehead.

“Why do you hurt, Daddy? I wanna fix it…”

“You can’t fit it, baby, but I wish you could. Daddy’s just old.”

“But all the other daddies are older than you are…”

Zelda set Link’s arm down for a moment and picked up her daughter. “Daddy’s a pedigreed Wolfbred, which means he doesn’t have any Hylian in him like you, or me. Pedigreed Wolfbred get very old much faster then Hylians do.” She reached over and stroked his forehead, a weary purr came from him.

Thinking about what her ancestors did to his made her sick. The Royals of ancient times took the Wolfbreds’ bodies and changed the very nature of their beings for their benefit alone. They encoded synthetic instincts to keep them subservient, they changed the makeup of their bodies… making them stronger than any natural creature no matter the consequences on their health. Her hand tightened over his forehead and she thought.

They tried to domesticate him! He was no less Hylian than a Sheikah, and her ancestors tried to reduce him to a pet! A working animal! And then they just discarded him for ten thousand years when they were done! Her husband was a Hylian man with agency, who cares if he is descended from some ancient werewolf?!

Her beloved was doomed long before Hylia ever chose him. Wolfbred were known for dying in their thirties. Both Link's parents were in their thirties when they passed away, his mother passed from organ failure and his father died in his sleep about a year after the Calamity. Even if his parents hadn't met such early demises, enough genetic problems existed in Link's family line she'd been warned several times during their courtship that she'd likely outlive him. His body was a mere twenty-three years of age, but his right leg was painful and his left eye had begun to fog over around Zelda Ivee's second birthday. Not to mention that he preferred to walk like a wolf, swearing it eased the pain of his hips.

Link's spirit was mostly undampered, thankfully. He was very argumentative when she retired him from the Guard a year ago due to his blind left eye, and since his retirement he'd been getting himself into trouble either by starting fights of his own or trying to end someone else's… like he was currently doing with Reede and Cece. He also still hunted on a nearly daily basis and was a volunteer guard at various stations around the village. The ancient Royal Family had designed him as a soldier and not a lapdog, so his inability to settle down didn't surprise her. He still had the energy of a twenty-three year old man, just with a bad leg, a poor hip, a blind eye and a mountain of emotional issues from the Calamity itself. And she'd expected the leg to go lame prior to the Calamity; honestly, due to how often he would throw his entire body weight onto an already abnormally small joint. Purah had already confirmed his blindness was cataract-related, but because Link is the stubborn man he is, she's not sure whether he had damaged his eye fighting the Divine Beasts (and simply refused to tell anyone until the eye was bad enough that he couldn't hide it) or whether it was because he was aging. She hoped it was Beast-related. If it was aging related, that meant he'd told her nearly immediately about his eye failing. A lack of stubbornness terrified her.

If they were still living prior to the Calamity, the Sheikah probably could have restored his vision, but alas, much of the quality-of-life technology being developed at the time was lost.

“Me and Daddy are gonna play spies with Narah and Nebb still, right?” Her daughter pawed at her arm and she began to rub the salve into her husband's favored leg.

He jerked away once when she tried to rotate the leg onto a better position, she gently pulled him closer. “Of course. You and me are gonna be the best spies.” A puppy's whine came from his lips. “That hurts.”

“I know it does, Link.” She kissed him as she worked.

Link's love for the other kids in the village made Zelda's heart soar. If he was able to settle into a mentor role for these Wolfbred-Hylian children, maybe it could help him move on from his bloody battle days and the days where he and Hylians were enemies. The children adored him. The four school-aged children were especially fond of her, of course, but even the littlest of the village children worshiped the ground Link walked on. And not even because he was a hero! The kids knew nothing about his heroics, or his royal status, he was simply ‘Grandpa Link’ to them, the old Wolfbred who lived out near the village entrance with Miss Zelda and had great stories and even greater food. He was also known for always being willing to wrestle with the children.

Of course, wrestling with multiple children probably wasn't the best for his arthritis, but it kept him in the village and out of trouble. Both Link and the little boys were significantly better behaved after the fact, reminding her of when Revali was alive and the two would always want to duel (and usually would break some amount of property in the process). Perhaps it was just part of being men from warrior tribes. As long as the children's parents didn't mind Link's rough manner of play (which most of them actually appreciated Link for doing so,) she was perfectly happy to let him indulge. He was definitely happier on all fours with children tugging on him from all sides.

His beloved finished rubbing the last of his joints. “Alright, Link, you can get up.” She offered him a hand in case he needed it.

He shook his head when she offered it. “I'm alright, love.” Once he was upright, he took their daughter down to prepare breakfast.

This world was so good for her. In this world, her little Zelda Ivee was one of many, many Wolfbred-Hylian individuals instead of the first one in ten thousand years. She was normal, not a ‘disgrace to the kingdom.’ Although she was supposed to arrive in the Hyrule of a century ago, Zelda was grateful to the Goddess that her daughter made it to the current age. Being able to welcome their little girl, beloved by all the friends they'd lost, helped her move on.

She knew Link would rather be in that Hyrule, despite his daughter's benefit. He did have friends here, but his best friends were buried a very long time ago. His mentors and family were left behind, his ‘safe and familiar’ lost now that he'd regained most of his memories… He'd rather have his sister again, instead of his sister's great-grandson. Reede tried , but he often just ended up butting heads with his ancestor. Link probably gave him a very stern talking to last night. She knew it didn't help that Link usually ended up alone at night, participating in the activities that he and his loved ones participated in with confusion and frustration that the others weren't interested. His culture often just left him so depressed and defeated… he probably felt that his daughter was his only chance at preserving and passing down the ways of the Wolfbred.

She'd originally wanted to press forward with Zelda Ivee's formal education, but decided not to after getting advice from Clavia that her dad should teach her about being a Wolfbred before her mother taught about being a lady. She hadn't realized the sheer amount of social development that Wolfbred have in their first few years of life.

For her next birthday, Zelda Ivee would accompany her father to a cave somewhere in the area and learn their history and why they have the traditions they do, just like Link did with his own father all those years ago.

Another concern that Zelda had uncovered during her research was that Wolfbred struggled with sudden lifestyle changes. They'd either completely avoid the change and protect their familiar or, if forced to change, would showcase signs of anxiety and hostility.

To say Link had a sudden lifestyle change would probably be the understatement of the century. Link had experienced multiple extreme lifestyle changes in the past few years. If the whole ‘waking up after one hundred years’ thing wasn't extreme enough, their daughter was born about four months after he rescued her, she retired him two years later due to blindness, he started developing joint pain at some point doing all of that and he really hadn't done much since her rescue except sit around at home and take care of their daughter. He'd gone from running lengths and lengths every single day to sitting on the floor with an infant.

Maybe an adventure was what her beloved needed to become himself again. A controlled one of course, he was half blind, but an adventure nonetheless.

“Zelda! Breakfast is ready!” Link called from the first floor, waving up at her as she finished placing everything on the desk.

“Coming, Link.” She quickly made her way down the stairs, and over to him. He kissed her happily before providing her with a warm meal, then served their daughter, then himself, and was seated at the table.

Despite his issues, she'd still have to say that Link was probably healthier than he'd been before the Calamity. He'd put on some weight since retirement, but she'd always believed he was a little too slim prior to the Calamity, and he was finally on a healthy sleep schedule instead of pacing around her for all hours of the day and night. It astounded her how stress, a chronic lack of sleep and a diet tailored for Hylian guards instead of tireless Wolfbred men had a more negative effect on his overall health than arthritis and blindness! In fact, the months just before Zelda Ivee's birth were probably the healthiest she'd ever seen him. His joints and eye were still healthy, as far as she knew, and he'd spent the six months prior to that listening to his body's needs. Of course, she'd also never seen him so stressed, but that was to be expected for such a time.

Their little girl was turning out so much like him. She wanted to be just like her dad, to be a real ‘Woofbred’ like him and make him proud.

She'd worried before the Calamity, that such a proud soldier like Link would struggle with a daughter. Of course she didn't tell him such. She didn't want him feeling pressured to ‘perform’ in his parental duties like her own father had often done to her. She confided in Urbosa, as she could not shake the fear with logic alone, and her dear friend assured her that her fears were unfounded.

And Urbosa was right. Link was a wonderful father to their daughter. In her likely biased opinion, he was the best ‘girl dad’ in the entirety of Hyrule. Of course, Zelda Ivee was born with her father's Wolfbred traits - his dewclaw-like thumbs, facial markings, fur-like hair and temperament - and she longed to be like him. Zelda had a fear that Link would not have been so doting had their little one been born with a more Hylian appearance and personality, or without such a strong desire to imitate Link. But, she tried to remind herself, her daughter was incredibly similar in personality to her husband. Link's female carbon copy, Zelda would jokingly say, even though the child had her green eyes, ear shape and figure. There was proof of this, right across the table from her: Zelda Ivee seated in her dad's lap as they ate, talking to her dad in his native tongue.

Zelda sighed in contentment as she ate the wonderful meal her husband had made. How did she get so lucky?

~~~~

Hyrule's Final Stand Masterlist

#fanfiction #booksivewritten #legend of zelda #hyrule's final stand #zelink #tears of the kingdom #zelda x link #zelda ivee hyrule #link totk #zelda has a bit of a soapbox #hateno village #princess zelda #royal wolfbred family of hyrule #pre totk #wolfbred line #link wolfbred king #urbosa mentioned

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adzeisval · 11 months

Text

It's okay just to say I'm not okay

Izzy has a rough morning. Also on AO3.

Izzy woke up later than he’d intended to and groaned. It had been a rough night. The sea had been tossing the ship about and the wind was howling and screaming. Izzy looked across his room to see his prosthetic had rolled all the way over to the other side of the room. He sighed.

Izzy eased himself down onto the floor and crawled on his hands and one knee over to the prosthetic. He managed to get it on and get himself off the floor and standing. He was a little unsteady at first. It still happened every once in a while. It probably always would.

He went about his morning duties and got the crew up and going and looked around for any damage that might have been caused by the storm. Izzy tried to ignore the rubbing of the prosthetic against his skin, he must have put it on a little off.

Izzy gave orders to the crew, he pointed out things that needed to be fixed. He fixed a few things that he could reach but he wasn’t able to get up into the rigging as easily as he could before and it was safer to stay on the deck.

“Spriggs, there’s a loose rope to your left!”

“Fuck Izzy, why don’t you come up here and help.”

“Little difficult to do that Spriggs,” Izzy called back. Izzy supposed he could try to climb up, he could in a pinch but…chances were that he would fall. Sometimes it didn’t bother him what he couldn’t do or couldn’t do as easily anymore but other times…it got to him. He knew that he was lucky to have lived through the infection and amputation. He was lucky to have a place where he belonged and where they cared enough about him to help him.

Izzy saw Edward and Stede making their way around the ship, Izzy needed to tell them a few things and started down the stairs. One of the straps holding his prosthetic snapped and the leg came off. Izzy tried to hop down the stairs and managed one but then went sprawling down the rest, landing hard on the deck.

Fuck.

“Izzy?”

“Is he alright?”

Ed and Stede were at his side helping him sit up.

“Are you alright Iz?” Ed asked. Izzy wanted to say that he was alright, he should be alright, it was just a stupid tumble. But the stupid leg strap had snapped, and his ribs hurt, and he was bleeding from a cut on his arm and…and…

Izzy started to cry.

“Oh shit,” Ed said, “Stede, can you get Roach and the leg and meet me in the cabin?”

“Yes,” Stede said, “Hold on Izzy.”

“I’m going to pick you up and get you to the cabin alright?” Ed said and Izzy managed to nod. Ed picked him up, carrying him bridal style all the way to the cabin.

“Sorry,” Izzy mumbled when they got to the cabin.

“It’s alright Izzy. Having a bad morning mate?”

He nodded. It was so difficult sometimes to talk to Edward about things involving the leg. He didn’t like to make Edward feel bad about it.

“I’m sorry Izzy, wanna bitch about it mate?”

Izzy snorted, “Stupid leg rolled across the room in the storm, put the straps on a bit off and it was chafing and hurting, Spriggs didn’t mean to but he made me feel a bit useless because I can’t go up into the rigging then the fucking strap broke and I fell and…and I just get sick of it sometimes. Not being able to just get up and walk!”

“I’m sorry Iz, so sorry for my part in this. But I’m so glad you’re here mate, I’m so thankful I still get to talk to you every day, see you every day. Everyone here wants you to be here because we love you. You are an important part of our family just as you are.”

Izzy sniffled, “Thanks Ed.”

“Roach is here, ready to see if that cut needs stitching?”

Izzy nodded.

“I’ll see what we can do about getting that strap fixed and maybe get some more padding so it doesn’t chafe.”

“Thank you.”

Roach came in and checked the cut which didn’t need stitches and gave Izzy some salve for the chafing. His ribs were bruised a bit but no breaks.

“Any other concerns Izzy?”

“No. Thank you Roach.”

Stede was the next to come in, with a tea tray filled with goodies, “Got you something to cheer you up a bit.”

“I’m not going to break you know.”

“I know. I just want to cheer you up. I don’t know what Edward said but you know how much we all care about you I hope?”

“I do. I’ll be alright, just needed to vent. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“And we don’t want to do that anyway.”

“I know,” Izzy said.

“When you first got here, when we realized how sick you were I really was afraid it was too late. Even with the animosity between us at that point I was really afraid you’d die. But you’re much tougher than that. But when you don’t feel tough it’s okay to have a down day and let others know what you need.”

“Thank you Stede,” Izzy said. He tucked in to the treats that Stede brought and Edward came back in and they spent the afternoon bullshitting in the Captain’s Cabin. Some of the other crew had worked on the prosthetic and by the end of the night it was fixed and the fit was even a little better. Roach had put a couple of more straps to help keep the leg in place and there was a little more padding to help with chafing.

Izzy walked around the room a bit, trying the fit out. It was indeed a little better. He still wished that he didn’t have to deal with the damn thing but…he was alive and had his family and maybe everything wasn’t perfect but it was enough.

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #it's okay just to say i'm not okay #ofmd #fic #izzy hands

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

Thoughts about Steve and Sensory Things

-those little squeeze balls? With the tiny balls inside? He HATES them. The thought that he could squeeze it hard enough to break it (and he could) and spill god-knows-what all over his hands…

-he prefers small forks/spoons because metal against teeth is Not Good.

-he can’t stand woolen blankets/sweaters. They were alright when he was a kid—maybe it was all he had—but he hates the texture now. It’s itchy and the little fibers always end up someplace they shouldn’t.

(Side note: I may be thinking of acrylic, not wool. At this point I can’t remember and I can’t be bothered to look it up, but you know the yarn I mean. Nobody actually likes it, but Steve hates it.)

-he LOVES nails scratching in his hair. Before Bucky came back, Natasha would card her hands through his hair and lightly scratch his scalp. Sometimes when she can see it’s turning into a bad day, she’ll still do it.

-fidget spinners wreak havoc on his hearing. They practically shriek; the sound is so high and fast and shrill and he hates it.

-he likes the squishy animals with the plastic eyes that bug out; there’s no danger of him breaking them, and they look funny

-I really wanna hear your thoughts on pop sockets; how does he feel about them? Does he have one? Does he pop it in & out almost obsessively (like I do)? Or does he hate the sound? His hands are big enough he can hold his phone without any problem, so he doesn’t need them, but some people don’t need them and like them anyways.

-those squishy jelly phone cases? He hates them. For some reason they’re always tacky to the touch and he doesn’t like the feel of them.

-the little handheld game with the water and rings and poles? He loves that game. He’s not amazing at it at first, but he loves it. He’s never beat Natasha’s time (because you know those two would turn it into something competitive).

I think that’s all I’ve got for now… let me know what you think! ❤️

omg yes all of this. you know how much i love steve and his sensory shit and OF COURSE i have thoughts, let's see...

-first off: same about the smaller spoons and forks. they're just BETTER for some reason

-also I think not only does he like nails on his scalp, but on his back as well! and it usually helps calm him down in the way that deep pressure does

-on that note, i think he also loves when someone takes his forearm and does this thing where you squeeze and ease the skin of the arm back and forth... that sounds weird, but it's really soothing

-also yeah i have a lot of thoughts about steve as a kid, and how he had issues with all sorts of things, but had to mask it for society and also because he had no other options... i have TONS of thoughts, so maybe i'll make another post for that

-pop sockets!! i think he LOVES to pop them in and out obsessively (me too, stevie) and it's one of those situations where the noise doesn't bother him when he's doing it, but would bother him if, say, bucky were popping his pop socket near him

-also on that note, i think he's like that with a lot of things. he doesn't mind the sound of computer keys typing when he does it, but if bucky is typing on his computer in the room with him, he'd get really annoyed

-you're right, he doesn't like fidget spinners! he prefers these:

they move around in a fun, brain scratching way, but don't make noise!

and some more assorted sensory things:

-he hates things on his hands, like lotion or other sorts of salves, which is a bit of a problem in dry weather. bucky ends up rubbing it on his knuckles for him, so he can touch as little lotion as possible

-ankle socks only. he hates crew socks, and hates formal situations where he has to wear longer socks-- it also makes any sort of press event all the worse, because everything's flashing and loud and he can feel. his. socks. on. his. calves.

-peanut butter is no. bad texture

-when he's having really bad sensory overload, bucky will hold him from behind and squeeze real hard :')

#anyway yeah!!!#him #adhd steve rogers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #mikey answers #mutuals <333

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celestial-fucking-weeb · 4 years

Text

NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero

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arizona2004 · 3 years

Text

Who the Real Wolves Are. part 2

Azriel x Reader

word count: 1830 Part 3

I have no idea how long I’d been lying there, cold on the floor. The sun was up, though. So, I’m assuming it’s the next day. Or maybe it’s two days later. I don’t know. Azriel’s here, though; he kneels on the ground next to me and shakes me awake. He’s lifting me slightly into his arms, feeling my pulse. His hands are all over me, inspecting my injuries. When I’m finally sitting up straight in front of him, he pulls my chin to look at him and growls, holding back his temper, barely, “who did this to you?”

I’m too dazed to process the question, though. My head is spinning, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Where’s Gran? I think, but when I turn my head back to the floor, Az blocks my view.

“Don’t look over there. Keep your eyes on me,” he says.

I drop my head to rest on his chest when the memories start flooding back. Gran is dead. She’s dead, and she’s never coming back. Then, fear floods in too when I remember what else the men had said that evening. “They’re looking for you,” I choke out, “They want to kill you.”

Gently, he brushes my hair and cradles my head against his neck while I continue crying. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I am dangerous, remember?”

A choked laugh escapes me at the memory, but I’m still wracked with fear and sadness. Azriel pulls back slightly and presses our foreheads together, “Who was it, y/n? Who did this to you?” He asks more calmly now, but I know anger still floods his veins.

“Three men from the town,” I tell him, “I can’t remember their names, right now, though,” shaking my head in frustration, I groan, trying to remember them.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’ll remember later you’re still in shock. For now, I just need to get you out of here,” he reassures, pulling me closer to him.

“No,” I protest, “I won’t leave without Gran,” I finally look over to her. She’s soaked in red, and her skin is bluing.

“I’ll take her, too. And you can have a memorial service. I promise, but you can’t stay here. It’s not safe,” he says quietly, holding my face between his hands. I nod, agreeing, and wrap my arms around his neck. Seconds later, we’re submerged in darkness, spinning through space. We land on some marble floor, still sitting on the ground.

“Az? What’s going on here?” I hear the drawl of a male to my right. Turning my head, I see, standing in the doorway to a dining room, a tall male with dark hair and violet, blue eyes. They meet mine and stare curiously. Azriel gently sets me down and stands to greet the male. I hear the beginnings of him explaining everything to the male, ‘Rhys’, but then I zone everything out. Staring at my grandmother, I feel sick again. I want to look away, but I can’t. She’s dead because of me, I think; why did I let her take the blame for me? I’m so lost in my thoughts and grief I don’t notice the female approach my other side until she taps my shoulder.

I jump and turn to her. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. My name’s Feyre. Do you want to come upstairs with me?”

She seems nice, and I know she’s a friend of Azriel’s; he’s mentioned her, but I still say, “no,” and turn my head to Azriel. He finishes whatever he had said to the male and returns to me. Lifting me in his arms, he moves to carry me away, “wait, gran…” I mumble.

“It’s okay. She’ll be okay. I asked Rhys to take her somewhere else for now. She’ll be fine.” I trust him, and so my head falls to his shoulder, and I let him carry me upstairs.

He takes me to a large bedroom, it’s mostly black with hints of various blues and gold, and places me on a soft, blue duvet covering a bed. Leaving me for a moment, he walks through another door to my left, a bathroom, I realize. Returning carrying a bowl of water, rags, and a small box with bandages, Azriel kneels before me. He cleans all my wounds, applying a salve to them, and uses the bandages to cover any open wounds. He even has to call a healer for a gash on the left side of my face that needs stitches. It was just outside my eye and ran down to my cheek. The amount of blood I’d lost to the wound accounted for my woozy feeling. The cut would heal but scar, the healer told me. I couldn’t bring myself to care, though. I didn’t feel like caring about anything.

Azriel, noticing my feelings and understanding as he always did, dismissed the healer and lifted me into his arms. He walked us to the top of the bed and lied down, holding me. “Sleep,” he whispers, rubbing my back gently. And so I did. I let the darkness overtake me, and the pain washed away for a little while, at least.

narrators pov

y/n was finally sleeping peacefully in Azriel’s arms 10 minutes later when a knock sounded at his bedroom door. He looked up at Rhys’ face peering in, eyebrows raised expectantly, so he began untangling his limbs from yours. Standing up and gently covering you with a blanket, he shuffled out of the room, careful not to wake you, and met Rhys in the hall. Rhys was leaning on the wall across from the room, arms crossed in front of him, “come on. Everyones waiting downstairs for an explanation,” he said, turning to walk downstairs.

Everyone was waiting, gathered in the sitting room. Cassian and Mor were arguing about something or another; who you are to Azriel-it sounds like. When they enter, everyone falls silent, though. Rhys moves to sit on a couch with Feyre, Mor and Amren are seated too, and Cas is standing by the fireplace. They’re all looking at Azriel expectantly. “Her name is y/n. What more do you need to know?” He knew they wouldn’t be pleased with him withholding information, but he wanted to keep you to himself as long as possible.

“Who was the other woman?” Cassian asks, “The old dead one.”

“How sympathetic of you Cassian,” Mor said sarcastically, glaring over her shoulder at him, but he just shrugged, looking to Azriel for an answer.

“Her grandmother,” He responded simply.

“...And why is she dead?” Cassian asks.

“She was stabbed.”

“No shit, Az.”

“Stop with the curt answers, Azriel, give us the whole story,” Rhys intervenes.

“There’s no story,” He responds, “I found them in their house. y/n hasn’t told me who killed her grandmother yet. She’s still in shock.”

“No. Start from the beginning. I know you’ve been seeing her for at least a month now, but when did it start exactly?” Rhys presses

“Wait, she’s your lover?” Cassian asks, more intrigued.

“What do you mean you’ve known for a month?” Azriel growls to Rhys.

“You may be the spymaster, but I’m not stupid. Did you really think I wouldn’t look into where you kept sneaking off to? When I first saw you together, rolling around on the forest floor, I had no idea what to make of it,” he responds cooly.

“It’s not just physical,” Azriel spats at Rhys’s implication.

“Oh?” Mor speaks this time, “do you love her?” Azriel’s quickly gotten tired of this interrogation and turns to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre’s voice calls to stop him. Standing still with his back turned to them, he stops, “stay. I’ll be the only one to ask questions. Nothing too personal, I promise.”

He turns back and stands with his arms crossed over his chest, attention only directed at his high lady. She smiles at that, and Cassian grumbles something unimportant.

“Where did you meet her?”

“In the forest near her house.”

“When?”

“Nearly three months ago. On my way back from my mission in the mortal lands.”

“Why did you go back to see her?

“Why did you present yourself to her in the first place? Why not stay hidden? Ignore her?” Rhys interjects before Azriel can respond, and Feyre smacks his shoulder.

“I- I don’t know,” I try to answer, “It’s complicated. I was just drawn to her.” He tries to answer, not wanting to reveal the reason he stepped into your path that day.

“Why did you bring her to Velaris, Az?” Feyre’s asking the questions again.

“I- It wasn’t safe for her there. You saw how they beat her. Killed her grandmother.”

“You do love her,” Feyre whispers, looking at Azriel as if she can read everything written on his soul.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he stammers, more confused than when he pondered this question to himself for the last month. He turns on his heel and does leave this time, returning to your bedside.

y/n pov

When I woke in bed, I immediately panic. Where am I? But then everything came rushing back. I’m hit with a sudden wash of pain, and I’m wondering, Where is Azriel? I sit up in bed, disoriented as the door opens.

“You’re awake,” Az says, caught off guard.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long. Not even half an hour. You need rest,” he says, walking over to me, concern written all over his features.

“Wheres my gran?”

“She’s being taken care of. By tomorrow she’ll be ready for any ceremony or burial you want for her,” he’s sitting on the edge of the bed now. “If you wanna talk, I’m here to listen,” he says, opening his arms to me.

I climb over to him, letting him hold me. Leaning my head on his shoulder: my body relaxes, and I tell him a story. A memory about my gran and I playing in the forest. I don’t know how long I talked, but he held me the whole time. Only occasionally interrupting to ask a question or laugh at my embarrassing childhood moments.

I fell asleep in his arms again. And this time, it was hours before I woke, still in his arms. I nuzzled against his neck and gripped his shirt pulling him tighter to me.

“Are you hungry? Dinners in an hour, but we could steal something from the kitchen,” Azriel's deep voice whispered against my neck.

I looked up to him and smiled. It hurt but felt good too. I knew gran would want me to smile, “That sounds wonderful. Is it going to be difficult? Will you have to knock anyone out?” My grin spreads, and he chuckles.

“I’m gonna assume you want to go with the more risky but fun plan, and not the easy, boring one?” he raised his eyebrows at me.

I smirked, “So what’s the plan?”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel imagine #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #azzie #rhysand #cassian #feyre #mor #cassian acotar #rhys acotar #feyre acotar #mor acotar

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years

Text

Royal Affairs - I

A Choice is Made

Rating: T (Will change to M in future chapters)

Warnings: None, for this chapter.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!

When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow.

But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned.

“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”

He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke.

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms.

Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve.

“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”

She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one.

You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger.

His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist.

“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?”

You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion.

You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip.

He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest.

Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?”

You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers.

The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products.

She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.

“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”

The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”

You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty?

Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie.

“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut.

You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed.

“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?”

You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?”

You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”

A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters.

“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.

***

The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear.

The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.

“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.

“Did you hear?!”

You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.

“Did I hear what, Vys?”

You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.

“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”

You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.

“And what, Vys?”

Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Vys, are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”

You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.

“Vys!”

“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”

Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.

A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”

You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.

“Maker, what are we gonna do?”

Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.

“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”

Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”

“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”

Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.

“Go on, spit it out.”

She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.

“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes, go.”

After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”

He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”

Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.

You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.

You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.

Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.

Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.

Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.

There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp.

The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms.

“Su’cuy, ad’ika.”

The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close.

You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion.

The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence.

“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”

You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber.

“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”

“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”

You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.”

“You didn’t report it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.”

“What’s this?”

You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”

“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”

“Fett.”

Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent.

“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar.

“Thank you.”

You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.

He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”

You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine.

You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”

Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness.

The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual.

“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear.

“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese.

The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you.

“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well.

You told your mind to shut the hell up.

“You’re welcome, my king.”

There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–

“Please, darling. Call me Din.”

Well, there went that plan.

You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling.

“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?”

You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you.

He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you.

“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.”

You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite.

“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”

“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”

You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way.

He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.

Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son.

He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more.

As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.

“I’ve already told you, darling. Call me Din.”

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livesincerely · 3 years

Note

Domestic AU! Domestic AU! Domestic AU!

I don’t really have anything intelligent to say right now but I just love it so much and I need more of soft!Jack raising these kids he loves more than life. Plus David coming in and just adopting them and being the steadying presence Jack never had is so so good.

Anyway you’re amazing and it’s amazing have a nice day.

Hi friend!! I’m having an amazing day, thank you! 💗

So here’s another domestic au idea I’ve been thinking about recently.

While he’s still in high school, Davey always swings by the elementary school so that he and Les can walk home together. But one day, in late fall of his freshman year, he goes to pick up Les and finds Tony and Charlie waiting with him. Jack and Davey are quickly becoming great friends, and Charlie and Les are thick as thieves (they’re in the same class) so at first Davey doesn’t realize anything’s wrong

“David!” Les chirps, waving wildly as he spots Davey approaching. “David, can Charlie and Tony come home with us? Their brother didn’t come pick ‘em up and they don’t want to get on the subway all alone.”

“What do you mean, Jack didn’t come pick them up?” David says, frowning. “And, hi Tony, hi Charlie.”

“Hi Davey!” Charlie says.

“We definitely could’ve gotten on the subway alone,” Tony announces, looking incredibly disgruntled for an eight year old. “But Les said he’d tell the monitor on us if we did.”

“Because you’re not supposed’ta get on the train alone!” Les insists. “My Mama says it’s dangerous.”

Tony rolls his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest, but doesn’t argue.

“Where’s Jack?” David asks again. “He was absent from school today—are you sure he’s coming? Maybe your parents are coming by after work instead?”

“We don’t got any parents,” Charlie informs him, childishly innocent, and David’s heart lurches in his chest. “We just got Mr. Snyder and I don’t think he even knows when we get outta school—“

“Jack picks us up,” Tony insists. “Jack always picks us up. But he was real sick this morning, so maybe he’s just late?”

“Jack’s sick?” David asks.

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “He was sneezin’ and coughin’ and shiverin’ all night, and he kept fallin’ asleep on the subway when he dropped us off.”

“Can’t they come home with us!” Les pleads. “I told the monitor that we were waiting on you, that you were gonna walk us home today.”

“Les,” David sighs. “You shouldn’t lie to your teachers.”

“But it’s not a lie if you actually walk us home!” Les says, all sad puppy eyes. “Please?”

So, Davey ends up walking Les back home first, then walking Tony and Charlie back to their apartment.

I really like the idea of Les getting excited and saying something like, ‘yeah, you can come over and we’ll watch spongebob, yadda yadda,’ and Davey tries to shut it down before Les can get too into it and says something like, ‘you’ve got guitar in 45 minutes and Papa will kill you if you skip, you don’t wanna get in trouble, right?’. Then Tony adds, in a very conversational voice, ‘yeah, Snyder gets real mad and says he’s gonna kill us when we don’t do what he wants, we don’t want you to get in trouble.’

And Davey’s like, excuse me? Because he was mostly exaggerating but Tony sounds weirdly calm and serious about this and it twinges some little instinct in the back of Davey’s mind that something’s off.

But the moment passes (for now)

So, Davey eventually gets Tony and Charlie back to their apartment. He’s been texting and trying to call Jack the whole time, because he doesn’t want Jack to turn up to the elementary school and finds his brothers missing. But when they arrive, the find Jack curled up on the living room sofa, smelling of Vick’s salve and shivering with fever, nose rubbed raw from blowing it. And Davey’s heart breaks, because it’s utterly evident that Jack is too sick to take care of himself and there’s clearly no one else around to do it.

So Davey takes it upon himself to do it himself.

He takes the boys with him for a trip to the corner store because he doesn’t want to leave them alone when Jack’s so incapacitated. They make a whole adventure of Taking Care of Jack: they pick out some good soup, crackers, cold medicine, tissues, cough drops, orange juice, and a bunch of other stuff. Tony and Charlie are Very Invested in this task, and Davey realizes that they’ve been very worried about Jack, even though they don’t seem to realize that’s what they’re feeling.

Jack wakes up as Davey’s heating up some soup on the stove top. He’s very confused to find Davey in his apartment, and when he realizes that he slept through picking Charlie and Tony up from school, he feels So Guilty. But Davey’s like, Jack, you look like hell, you don’t need to be getting up from the couch, let alone trying to traverse the subway and the streets in November.

“You don’t got to—“

“Jackie,” David says, exasperated. “It’s fine, just go sit back down before you fall down.”

“But—“ Jack says, weak and raspy.

“Sit. Down.”

I love the idea of Jack, who’s always been the caretaker, finally having someone show him that it’s okay to be taken care of. I also love the idea of Davey, Tony, and Charlie having a a really sweet bonding moment together.

I think this is where Tony and Charlie really start to see Davey as another Trusted Adult (not that Davey, at 15, is an adult in any sense of the word, but the boys are young so that’s how they think of it) and Jack starts to see Davey not just a school friend, but as someone who he can actually lean on and confide in outside of a school setting

Jack has Issues with letting people know anything about his home life, for obvious reasons. But Davey proves that he can be trusted not to judge.

But yeah! Hope that was interesting! I love the domestic au very much 😊

@alannaofroses

#*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #*ask #the domestic au #thank you for the ask #newsies #javid

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calebdumes · 4 years

Note

Kanera prompt: Someone gets stuck in a ventilation/maintenance shaft

this may or may not be inspired by the lion king

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 924

Kanan woke to a loud bang echoing from the ventilation grate. His eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat as he reached for his lightsaber on the floor. Next to him, Hera stirred. Another thump rang out, softer this time, followed by a familiar voice that said, "Uh, Hera?"

"You got to kriffing me." Kanan groaned, letting his arm flop over his eyes.

"Not it." Hera mumbled into his chest, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Oh come on, he's asking for you."

"He's your padawan." she rolled away from him, taking the sheets with her. "Your responsibility."

The thumping continued, short little bursts followed by muffled cursing. Kanan pushed himself up from the bunk, pulling his black undershirt over his head before coming to stand under the grate.

"Ezra, what the kriff are you doing?"

The thumping stopped. "Oh, Kanan. Hey." Ezra's voice echoed from above. "What are you doing in Hera's room?"

Kanan rolled his eyes. "What are you doing in the ventilation shafts?" he shot back. "in the middle of the night cycle."

There was a pause before Ezra said. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to crawl around in the vents?" From the bunk Hera sat up, blinking owlishly. She looked soft in the dim glow of the room, the white marking on her lekku stark against her green skin. Kanan briefly debated leaving Ezra in the shaft so he could return to bed and wrap himself around her. Another thump from the ceiling ended that train of thought pretty quickly.

"Okay I don't really see why that matters. I've kind of got a situation going on right now."

"Let me guess." Kanan smirked. "You're stuck."

"No I'm-" Ezra paused. "Yes, I'm stuck. Now will you please help me?"

Kanan sighed and reached out with the Force to pull the chair nestled in the corner over. Clothing fell from it as it scraped across the floor, coming to a stop by his feet. He climbed up on it, reaching overhead to pull the ventilation grate off and sticking his head in the shadowy space. He couldn't see much in the darkness but he could see the faint outline of Ezra's wild hair near his face.

"I think my pant leg is caught on something." he said quietly.

"You and I are going to have a long conversation about approved night time activities."

"Are you and Hera doing approved night time activities?" the little bantha shit asked. Kanan whacked him on the forehead. "Ow!"

"Stop talking." Kanan ordered. "Is it your foot or pants?"

"Pants." he grumbled.

"Well I hope you're not attached to them."

"Wait, what?" Kanan gripped the teen's shoulders and pulled, dragging him down through the vent and letting him fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs and dust. The right leg of his pants had a large tear in it from where Kanan ripped him free. "You could have given me more of a warning." he grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off. "Hey Hera."

"Hello Ezra." Hera responded sleepily from her perch on the bunk, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

"I gave you plenty of warning." Kanan jumped down from the chair and kicked it aside. "Now, you wanna tell me why you were taking a nighttime crawl through the vents?"

"I told you, I couldn't sleep."

"And you thought taking to the ventilation system was a good way to remedy that?" Kanan asked tiredly. He wanted desperately to climb back in bed with Hera, letting her warmth lull him back into a dreamless sleep. He did not want to discuss when it was appropriate to use the ventilation shafts with his padawan. Some of his frustration must have bled through his voice because Ezra rubbed the back of his neck and down at his feet, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Kanan." Hera said softly, her voice a melodic salve on his quickly fraying nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his shoulders drop. "Just, next time you can't sleep," Kanan said, placing a firm hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Use the doors okay?"

"Fine." Ezra grumbled as Kanan pushed him towards the door. "Hey you didn't say why you were in Hera's cabin."

"Good night Ezra." Kanan and Hera said in unison right before the doors shut on his face. Kanan fell back into bed, pulling Hera close and nuzzling at her neck, leaving gentle little kisses on her smooth skin. Hera hummed low in her throat and wound her fingers through his hair.

"Next time." he said kissing right below her ear cone, their legs slotting together. "You're dealing with him."

"But you did such a great job." she rubbed her nose against his. "There's no way I could do as well as you, Master Jedi."

Kanan dug his fingers into her side, causing her a gasp. "You're full of bantha shit.”

Hera bit him lightly on his ear lobe before settling against his side. "Good night Master Jedi."

"Good night Captain Syndulla." He kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes, the sounds of her soft breathing the last thing he heard before drifting asleep.

The next morning as he was pouring a cup of caf he heard Ezra whisper to Sabine in the lounge, "Why would Kanan be spending the night in Hera's room?"

Kanan set his cup down on the counter and rubbed his temples. Next time, he was leaving the kid in the kriffing vent.

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star was #look at me write #shleby writes #you could always see me #asks #anon #Anonymous

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misora-msby · 4 years

Text

花火 | chapter one : moon

花火 (fireworks) | chapter one : moon

themes / warnings: medieval japan au (sengoku era), supernatural au, death, fluff, angst

pairing: kitsune!suna x fem!reader

word count: 7.0k

notes: part one of a series! it’s not 100% accurate to shintoism and japanese folklore but i did my best to research it and change as little as possible! still, i hope you enjoy this and stick around for the next parts too!

edit from the future : part two can be found here

Rintarou doesn’t remember how he became a kitsune spirit.

It was just that one summer day he found himself sleeping in front of a manmade structure (a shrine to the god Inari as he would later learn) with a boy of preteen age standing over him.

That boy, Shinsuke, would teach him and two other foxes, Atsumu and Osamu, how to do their jobs - protecting the priests, priestesses, and shrine maidens living nearby, and delivering the prayers of visitors to the god. It wasn’t an overly difficult job though, and more often than not, Rintarou found himself either running around the shrine grounds with the other two or sleeping in a comfortable spot he found.

A few years later, the three of them even gained the ability to shapeshift into humans. They were completely amused with how similar Atsumu and Osamu looked, and how Suna’s eyes looked almost the exact same as his fox form, though it greatly upset them that their human forms were much shorter and younger than that of Shinsuke’s. He had to reassure them that someday they were likely to grow to his height or even taller.

It was just a matter of time, similar to how they had to wait to become strong enough to become human.

Time, Rintarou would eventually learn, was rarely ever on his side.

It was a perfect day for a nap on the roof; a cooling wind blew through the air, preventing Rintarou’s robes from sticking to his skin. The sky was cloudy enough to block out the sun while not being abundant enough to make him worry about a sudden downpour, and the sweet scent of flowers blooming filled the air. Though there weren’t many bouquets in the area, a fox’s strong sense of smell could detect the scent of wisterias carried on the wind.

After a bit of twisting and turning to find the perfect position to sleep in, Rintarou was woken by the sound of footsteps and chatter. Shuffling to the edge of the roof, he narrowed his eyes upon seeing a family of six walking in.

“Today, your mom and dad are going to teach you how to pray. We want to pray for your mom and new sibling, okay?” a man spoke to the children who replied with a chorus of “Yes”s.

“Ah,” Rintarou remembered, “Inari-sama is the god of so many things… Foxes, rice, sake, fertility, agriculture… Why couldn’t they give some of the work to the other gods… we have so much work to do.”

He figured he might as well do his job while the other three were doing other jobs around or out of the grounds and began to inspect them carefully. Fortunately there were no malicious spirits attached to them, nor could he sense any by the red torii gates at the foot of the mountain slope on which the shrine resided.

But as Rintarou inspected them from atop the rooftop, he noticed the youngest child of the family, the only daughter, was rather pretty. She looked to be about his age, though he knew she had obviously seen far fewer winters than he had due to the way time progressed for him as a spirit.

Dressed in a red kimono with her hair just reaching her shoulders in a simple bob like most girls her age, he thought she was the prettiest girl who had ever come to the shrine. He couldn’t understand why his stomach suddenly felt funny, like it was jumping around inside his body.

Suddenly, their eyes met and that feeling spread to more parts than just his stomach. Big glossy eyes stared up at him in awe while his own fox-like eyes widened. An awfully warm feeling came to his cheeks and the boy quickly scampered away from the edge of the roof, towards the back of the building where they wouldn’t be able to see him.

Rintarou sat still for a moment, knees to his chest. He took in deep breaths while keeping his cool hands pressed to his cheek and chest. Was she a malevolent spirit?! He thought that could be the only reason for nearly every part of his body to be tingling and causing his heart to want to jump out from his throat.

And yet he wanted to keep his gaze upon her. To look once again into those bright eyes and to memorise her pretty form.

He decided to do just that.

With graceful steps, Rintarou hopped off of the roof and onto the stone tiles. His feet made no sound as he ran over to hide behind a tree and watched as the family made their prayers. He watched as she reached up, struggling to drop her coin into the offering box while his dainty but pudgy fingers gripping onto the bark tightly to prevent himself from running forward and tossing it in for her.

But surely an evil spirit wouldn’t go through that trouble with praying right? She had to be a regular human. Even the head priest was smiling at the entire family. But he still couldn’t understand why she gave him such a funny feeling.

Before he could be spotted again, he ran off into the forest to avoid her gaze which caused all these problems in him in the first place.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

A few moons had passed, the cool breeze had become warmer and the pink petals floating in the wind had been replaced by green leaves. The song of young animals had also left, the nights now being filled with the loud croaking of cicadas and the much quieter buzzing of fireflies. The air had become thicker and warmer too, which wasn’t quite something Rintarou enjoyed. But what he did enjoy was the festival occurring tonight.

Every year the humans would hold an extra special festival in the summer and launch fireworks. Though he didn’t care too much for the spirits of humans, aside from that one girl who he had never seen again since, he did care for their aesthetics. Whether it was the pattern on the fabric of a woman’s kimono, or the design in the pendants and amulets that humans wore around their necks or held in their pockets, he thought they were all rather fascinating. But as much as he wanted to go down and look carefully in person in his human form, hiding his tail was still too difficult for him in the sea of humans, and even if he tried to make himself invisible, children were so painfully receptive to spirits that he wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Strangely, he could hide his ears if he wished. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that their tails were directly representative of their level of power so they were harder to hide.

As he sat atop a lone rock in the forest, he could smell the scent of hot snacks wafting up the mountain. Perhaps he’d make an appearance as a fox and hope that some kind humans would give him and Osamu some snacks. They always loved to treat the three little foxes running around the shrine. He was lucky he still only had one tail, otherwise it would gain many stares. He guessed that must be a problem for someone like Shinsuke-senpai who already had three tails.

Rintarou hopped off of his rock, ready to head down and check over the festival with his friends, when he heard sobbing from somewhere in the forest.

With the way the orange sun had already gone to sleep, he knew that he had to look for the source of the sound. He was meant to be a zenko after all, a celestial fox associated with the god Inari. So while he wanted to just go down and have fun with his friends, he had to first attend to this matter.

Using the speed granted to him, it didn’t take long for him to locate the source. His senses were too strong to not be able to.

What he found was someone who he had never expected to see again.

“You…” the word left him in a near gasp.

You were the girl from a few months ago, crouching under a tree and sobbing. Your hair had grown a bit longer and this time you wore a light pink yukata with a dark pink obi. The eyes that had captivated him so easily last time were now red and puffy as your little hands rubbed at them to rid them of the tears which poured.

Rintarou crouched in front of you who hadn’t noticed him amongst your crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked in his quiet voice.

You looked up and gasped before quickly wiping away your tears and snot.

“I- I was playing hide and seek with my onii-chans… but it’s been so long and it’s scary and then I fell down and it hurts…” your shaky voice hiccuped as you revealed your scratched up and dirty palms. Looking carefully, Rintarou realised the front of your yukata was dirty too.

“Oh… Should we go find them?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t wanna go to them! Then I’ll lose!”

Rintarou pursed his lips slightly, wondering why you wouldn’t want to be found when you were injured. Was hide and seek that important to human children? He had played it a couple of times with the twins but it was merely a way to pass time to them.

“Then… do you want to fix your hands?” he asked.

You replied with a nod, your sniffling ceasing.

In reply, Rintarou untied the inro from the obi on his hip, a small container made of lacquered paper in which he kept healing salve, cloth, (and a snack or two) in the case of an emergency.

“Show me your hands.” he said, to which you obeyed and held out your dirty hands. The kitsune carefully took your hands and began cleaning them off with a cloth, taking note of how warm you were.

“Your hands are cold, are you sick?” you asked.

Rintarou looked up at you for a moment, wondering how he should reply. He knew it had something to do with him being a spirit, but he didn’t want to say that. “I’ve always been cold.” he simply said and applied the salve to your skin. After wrapping them up in a new strip of cloth, he tied the inro back together and hung it on his hip again.

“Wow, thank you…?” You exclaimed before trailing off as you realised you didn’t know his name.

The kitsune narrowed his eyes, not understanding you. After all, he had lived the past few decades around the same few people and had no reason to give his name.

“Um… what’s your name?” you finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh… Rintarou,” he said upon finally understanding.

“I’m (Y/N). Thank you for fixing my hand, Rintarou-kun! It already feels better!” you grinned and squeezed his hands to show you were already regaining your strength.

Though upon hearing his name from your lips and coming to the realisation that he had been holding your hands for so long, a blush crept up his cheeks. His eyes widened for a second though they quickly returned to fit his near emotionless state. “It’s nothing,” he quickly said, looking to the side to avoid your gaze, “Anyways, what do you want to do now? You don’t want to go find your brothers yet, right.”

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you want to play together?”

“Play?”

“Yeah. We can go to the festival!”

At that, Rintarou immediately shook his head, “I don’t like crowds.” It was a lie, he couldn’t care less about crowds if he were in his fox form but if he had to stay a human, he couldn’t bear to spend so much energy in hiding his tail which still had a chance of being seen.

“Then… what do you want to do?” you asked, pouting slightly.

He thought for a moment. What could you two do?

Then he sniffed the air. There was the smell of a match being lit but the absence of incense. His sensitive ears could also hear the sound of people gathering and shuffling about in anticipation.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something cool.” He took you by the wrist and you two ran side by side into the forest. Though he had to annoyingly slow his pace for you, you both managed to reach his intended destination in time:

A small glade in the middle of the forest where he assumed a ritual must have taken place decades ago. It was surrounded by purple wisteria trees, as if they created a natural veil to this secret world where fireflies floated on the grass surrounding a single tall boulder. The sounds of the festival were far away now, Rintarou was certain that his guest could no longer hear them with how far up the mountain they were.

“Quickly, climb up the rock.” He helped push you up the rock, slightly polished yet rough from years of rain and animals scratching upon it. The fireflies in the vicinity had become startled and gathered at the fringes of the glade instead of around the rock, but he figured it was a consequence that came with bringing a human for once to his secret place. Once he had confirmed you had a stable seat, he jumped up and took a seat beside you.

“What are we doing here, Rintarou?” you asked curiously.

“Wait a bit… there.” He pointed up at the sky where a flower of red and yellow burst among the stars. The loud bang followed two seconds later, making the girl beside him almost jump in fright before becoming entranced at the sight of more fireworks following the first to bloom in the sky.

Reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, whatever colour you named could be found in the starry sky. Bursting and blooming with brilliance, providing just a fleeting amount of beauty before wilting just like a flower whose time had come to be picked from the garden.

If you asked Rintarou yesterday what the most beautiful sight was, he would have said that it was sitting alone on his favourite rock while the wind blew on a spring day, watching the clouds swim by while joined by floating wisteria petals. It was a sight he spent every day of spring trying to recreate. But if you asked him today what he thought the most beautiful sight was, he surely would have said it was this very moment; sitting beside the only human who he had ever talked to, and who had caused him to feel absolutely captivated, watching the quickly disappearing and reappearing garden in the night sky.

However, all good things had to come to an end, and before he knew it, the night had been filled with a deafening silence, and the sky had become nearly pitch black with the new clouds of smoke.

“I think it’s time to go back,” he stood up to face you, “You definitely won the hide and seek game if you’ve been missing for this long.”

You nodded in reply and carefully scrambled down the rock, landing on the grass with a soft “oof”. Rintarou jumped down, landing with barely any sound before holding out his hand. “Let’s go,” he said and took your hand as you two carefully walked through the forest.

Though it was dark and late at night, the bright moon was kind enough to allow you to not trip over your own feet as he led you down the path to the shrine which he had already memorised with ease.

“Can we come back here next year?” you asked while squeezing Rintarou’s hand, “It was really pretty.”

“Next year? Sure. Actually, I live at the shrine so you can come visit any time.” He didn’t know why he just said that. He never really talked to people, so why did he want to do this now?

“Okay! I’ll see you then!” you grinned, and Rintarou gave the slightest hint of a smile back.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” a woman cried the moment the two had stepped foot onto the stone shrine floors, running over to give her daughter a great big hug. “We were looking for you all over! Don’t go missing like that!” she sobbed, stroking her hair and dusting off the dirt from her clothes.

“Sorry, mama. I was playing hide and seek with nii-chan.” you mumbled, allowing your mother to straighten up your looks.

“I know, he told me. But don’t hide in the forest, ok? It’s dangerous and dark and you never know what might be- Oh dear, what happened to your hands?!” the woman asked, inspecting the bandages.

“I fell down and Rintarou put medicine for me! Rintarou, do you wanna-” you turned to wave the boy over but found he was no longer there. “Huh?”

Right then, a shrine maiden hurried over. “Oh! (L/N)-san, I’m glad you managed to find your daughter!” she smiled.

“Onee-san, where’s Rintarou?” The shrine maiden cocked her head at the question from the little girl.

“Rintarou? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about…” she replied in confusion.

“Eh… but he said he lives here! Um… he’s like… just a bit taller than me, and he has black, no, dark brown hair. Oh, and his eyes are yellow and like… they look like a fox!” Despite your explanations, the shrine maiden still had difficulty in knowing the identity of this person until an idea popped into her mind.

“Since this is a shrine to the god Inari, do you think you met a kitsune spirit?” she asked, “Though kitsunes rarely appear as young boys, there is the possibility.” The young girl gasped and thought for a second.

“Maybe…” you glanced back at the trees before turning to your mother. “I’m sleepy…”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, dear.” The woman held her daughter’s bandaged hand and waved goodbye to the shrine maiden before turning to head down the stairs of the shrine and to go back to the main festival.

While this happened, Rintarou had watched it all from behind a large tree trunk, just out of sight. His heart felt funny and he wished you didn’t have to go. Even if you said you would come back, he wished you didn’t leave in the first place.

“Hey, Rin! Where were ya? We waited for so long next to the okonomiyaki stall!” Atsumu’s boisterous voice spoke, nearly frightening the boy who had been so deep in his thoughts.

“There was a human lost in the forest so I had to help them,” he replied in his usual calm voice.

“Ya never miss the chance to walk with us in the festival though.” Osamu pointed out while taking a bite from one of the many toriniku sticks he held. Rintarou stiffened slightly, knowing that he was right.

“She was hurt.”

“‘She’?! A girl? Yer kiddin’ me, did ya get a girlfriend, Rin Rin?!” Atsumu grabbed his friend’s shoulders tightly.

“Nothing of that sort…” Rintarou replied though his cheeks turned pink.

“Maybe,” he realised, “maybe my feelings towards you are in that sort of way…”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Ever since your first meeting that summer, you would visit rather often. Most of the time was either spent idly walking in the forest while talking about various topics, or laying on the grass of the clearing while watching the clouds pass.

Many moons passed and Rintarou was starting to despise the time he would have to see you walk down the road from the shrine, back to your family’s house in the village at the foot of the mountain. Oh if only there were a way to keep you with him forever, he wished.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on dirt approaching him.

“Rintarou! Over here!” the voice he had missed so dearly spoke up. He jolted out of his thoughts and almost fell out of the tree he sat in, but he quickly regained his composure and hopped down.

“(Y/N), you surprised me.” he asked nonchalantly, as if being alone with you didn’t make his heart feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

“Really?! That’s a first!” you giggled before squinting your eyes at the top of his head. The kitsune became worried, were his ears visible? Even though you two had been friends for almost a year now, he still hadn’t told you of him being a spiritual creature. He was worried that you would become scared and that you would never talk to him again.

Though those fears were dismissed for now as you began to grin cheekily, “Heh, looks like I’m taller than you now!”

Rintarou narrowed his eyes and stood up straight so your heights matched. “No we’re not, I was just slouching.”

“You’re always slouching!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Whatever you say. Don’t you have prayers to do? I’ll de- I’ll wait for you to finish,” he asked, rather relieved that he didn’t accidentally admit that he would deliver your prayers to Inari.

“Mm… I’ll pray later! I wanted to play with you right now!” you spoke, pleasantly surprising the young kitsune. “And I wanted to check something…”

Rintarou’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and shock as a hand suddenly lunged to his side before he felt dainty fingers stroke the fur of his tail. A flame burst from the tail in reaction to the surprise, and he could feel his stomach plummet to hell when he saw the look on your face.

You knew.

Instinctively, he jumped back about three metres, his body sliding on the dirt. His hands made contact with the ground, his lengthening nails digging into the soft soil. Unknowingly, his golden eyes turned a shade of vermillion while large brown ears sprouted from his head, no longer invisible, and his tail waved menacingly behind him. If it weren’t for the human form he still had, one would have thought he was a fox preparing to attack.

It was then that he realised that your body had begun to shake. Your hands trembled in fear and your eyes were watery. There was a light thud as your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, face pale as a sheet.

What had he done?

Rintarou quickly relaxed his body and stood up, embarrassed. His eyes faded back to their usual golden colour and his long nails returned to their usual length. Seeing no reason to hide his tail or ears, he kept them in view.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“I- I didn’t actually...“ Words couldn’t leave you, they only stumbled out from your shaking lips. You were still frozen on the floor.

“Now you know. And you’re scared.” he mumbled.

Oh Inari-sama, why did he have to fall for her?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Rintarou spoke and reached a hand out, hoping you would take it and stand up like you had on that summer night.

But you only flinched.

Seeing that, he knew your friendship had changed.

Rintarou turned around, his tail swishing with his movement before he sprinted off into the wood, fists clenched tightly in frustration.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

It had been three hours or so. Perhaps he could return to the shrine now, he thought. You must’ve finally gotten up and went home.

He had fully exposed himself right then and though he wished he hadn’t, he knew he couldn’t change it. All he could do was sit on the rock and wish to visit that night once again.

“Rintarou.”

Shinsuke’s voice, albeit calm, had never sounded scarier to the younger kitsune.

“That girl has been waiting for ya.”

“You don’t know that. She’s probably gone home.”

“She has not. (Y/N) has been sittin’ on the shrine stairs for two hours now, waitin’ either for you or for the sun to set.” Rintarou was surprised to hear that from Shinsuke. Especially since he had never mentioned your name to the other kitsune before.

“And judging by the time,” Shinsuke started, “Ya better hurry. She’s got some things to say that I think’d sound better from her mouth than from this senpai.”

With a nod, Rintarou immediately sprung to his feet and took off down the mountain, letting both gravity and his desire to talk carry him with a speed he hadn’t felt before. He came to a screeching halt as he came out of the woods, seeing you sitting on the stone stairs while fiddling with your little drawstring bag.

“(Y/N),” he called out, making you jump slightly in surprise to see him again.

You quickly stood up and began to apologise, “Rintarou, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that and I know I should’ve asked but if I did then I know you’d say you weren’t a kitsune. It’s just that I’ve been suspecting since last year but was always too nervous to ask and I know it was really stupid of-”

“Wait a second.”

The phrase made the avalanche of words stop immediately.

“You knew?”

“Well… yeah,” you admitted, “I saw your tail a couple of times and sometimes you jump really high, or jump from a high place and you’re fine. And you always make sure I don’t see your back, I guess because of your tail.”

Well. Rintarou hadn’t realised how many mistakes he had been making.

“I see… You don’t hate me or anything?”

“No way!” you spoke with a big smile. “I think it’s so cool! I’m friends with a kitsune. That’s just... woah!” you waved your hands exaggeratedly to show your emotions which you couldn’t put into words.

“I always thought you’d be scared so I didn’t say anything.” Rintarou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His cheeks had become a dark shade of pink now.

“Mm, I wouldn’t be scared of you. You’re nice to me, and you’re a zenko so you wouldn’t do anything bad. The thing just now scared me a bit though, but I know that was because I suddenly touched you when I shouldn’t have.”

There was a pause as you two thought for a while, figuring out what to say next.

“Then… can we still be friends?” the kitsune asked shyly, his heart beating with joy to know he hadn’t lost his friend and the girl he had feelings for.

“Of course.”

The two of you smiled toothily at each other as the sun began its descent.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

“Rin, let’s go to the rock again today!”

“Mm, sure.”

The summer festival had come again, marking one year since the day you two properly spoke. To Rintarou, it felt unbelievably short and long. Because of the way you visited almost daily, it felt like you had been an integral part of his life. Days you didn’t come to the shrine were spent lazily running around the forest with the twins or acting as Inari’s messenger while thinking about the next day you were meant to come. Yet knowing that you had only been there for one winter of his life versus the many he had experienced made him realise how short of a time you had been there for.

It was funny to think despite the relatively short time he spent with you, he felt like you were the most important thing to him these days.

So even though he would have to miss another year of the summer festival, he didn’t mind spending it with just you in quiet instead.

Light footsteps made their way through the forest, the loud laughs and shouts from the crowd below shrinking until they were no more than far off echoes. The path was no longer lit by the warm yellow festival lights from below but rather by the stars and moonlight.

“It’s just as pretty as last year,” you hummed, admiring the fireflies as you pushed back the flowers of the wisteria tree to enter the glade. While you had both visited this place often on your many visits to the shrine, you always had to go back before dark, so this was the rarest sight for you.

After climbing up the rock with ease, an experience you had gotten very used to after multiple times, you waited for Rintarou to jump up before settling yourself comfortably.

“Oh! I bought these before coming up!” you pulled out two small paper packages from your kinchaku, a small drawstring bag your mother made for you with flower-patterned cloth, and unwrapped them. In the first were four pieces of daifuku, and in the other were six small pieces of warabimochi. “I thought we might get hungry!”

Rintarou smiled and quickly picked a piece of warabimochi before tossing it into his mouth. It bounced on the edge of his lip before entering though, causing the roasted flour to form a little cloud, making a small mess on his face. You giggled at the sight of him coughing a little on the confection. The thought that even yokais like him could be dorky and mess up amused you greatly.

The evening passed quickly, far too quickly for either of your likings. As the moon and stars took their position in the dark blanket above, you two laughed and ate your snacks. It wasn’t the most filling but you two felt happy enough just talking to each other.

Though your laughter eventually died as the topic of what you were doing tomorrow came up. The once bright smile on your face faded and your gaze couldn’t meet Rintarou’s.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He asked, “Do you want to go to get more food?”

“My um… my parents said I can’t come back to play anymore. They said it’s no good to simply talk with boys anymore. And I have to start studying.” Your voice was soft, the topic scaring you, but the kitsune could easily pick it up.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“They said I’m growing older and someday I have to be married. Before that I have to learn to cook and do a bunch of tasks to run the household and well… They say the war’s gonna reach us soon and my family has a little land but we aren’t super influential so it’s especially important I marry someone good.”

He had heard of the war. A few domains away the territories were being fought over by some big warlords and while he didn’t know the details, he remembered Shinsuke saying it would likely change the course of history.

But to think that would affect you who were merely a child. You had only turned 10 this year… the thought confused and saddened Rintarou.

“They said I have to prepare properly to become a woman,” you explained, “So I can’t waste my time running around a forest with a boy from the shrine.”

“You’re getting married?” he asked. Why did he want to know that more than anything else you mentioned?

“Huh? No no! I’m just preparing to. But I really don’t want to. I hate it so much. I won’t get to see you in forever, Rin!” Tears came to your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

The boy awkwardly wrapped his arms around your body and patted your back, letting you cry onto his jinbei. He just had no idea what to say, what was right to say, or what you wanted to hear. Even if he had surpassed you in years he had lived long ago, his mental age was roughly the same as yours if not younger.

“We’ll see each other again, I’m sure,” was the only thing he could think to say right now, “Even if it’ll be a while.”

You sniffed and looked up from his shoulder. Your eyes met, staring at each other in silence.

“Really?” your voice squeaked, body still tense until Rintarou gently stroked your hair. Strangely your body immediately untensed and you felt at ease. Maybe it was a power of his, though you were sure it was just him.

“Yeah. I promise.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever even get to come back.”

Rintarou thought for a moment, what could he say? He was never that great with words.

“If you’re lonely then… look at the moon. And the sky. I’ll be looking at it too, just like we always do.” he replied, cheeks turning just a bit pink. He was glad you couldn’t see his face right now. It sounded funny, but he remembered hearing something like that from a storyteller at one of the summer festivals.

You seemed a bit hesitant at first but eventually you smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that, Rin.”

He let go of you just as the fireworks began to burst in the sky, prompting you to do the same. The two of you turned your gazes to the sky to watch the performance in the sky just as you had one year ago.

But this time, he noticed that your hand rested on top of his and your head was on his shoulder.

He never wanted this night to end.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Rintarou thought about that night often.

Even if nearly seven summers had passed and he had not seen you once.

He wondered if he would ever see you again, he wanted to see you again. You were someone he could never forget so he hoped you hadn’t forgotten him too.

He wondered where you were, maybe you had moved to a different village and visited a different shrine. Maybe you were living as a servant in that new shogun’s castle. Maybe because of the war you had…

Rintarou shook his head, that couldn’t be the case. He refused to believe it. He just hoped you were okay wherever you were.

As he sat on his rock, gazing up at the sky once again in hopes of today being the day you would return, he sighed to himself. The shrine was being quite noisy these days and he couldn’t be bothered to be around all the sound so he had stayed away. There was some sort of event they were preparing for, he wasn’t sure what exactly but he didn’t care that much. He’d deal with the prayers and such afterwards.

Until he sniffed the air and smelled your familiar scent.

Rintarou had never sat up straighter before practically propelling himself off of the rock to run down to the shrine.

He would finally get to see you again! He wondered if you had grown much taller than him in the years, as he hadn’t grown all that much since that summer day. He cursed his slow growth as a kitsune but in truth it didn’t bother him that much. Though he wondered if you had matured a lot and if you would still be willing to run around in the forest with him. You probably would, right? Just for fun? Rintarou would even slow down if you wished, so you would, right?

His heart was racing as he sprinted down the mountain slope towards the shrine before coming to an abrupt halt.

A wedding ceremony...

And you were the bride?

Even if you looked completely different, wearing a pure white shiromuku while your hair was done up and hidden in the white wataboshi veil, he could still tell it was you. Even with the heavy makeup on your now matured face, he knew it was you.

Rintarou felt his guts want to simultaneously drop out from him and to also come out from his throat. There was an intense pain in his chest and throat which made him just want to scream in utter agony but all he could do was stand among the trees, completely still and yet trembling like the autumn leaves falling around him as his eyes widened in a mixture of intense emotions.

“Look at that wedding, ‘Samu. We haven’t had one of those around in a while have we?” Rintarou turned to see the twins standing a couple metres away from them, watching the ceremony as well.

“Yeah. I guess with the war now people are getting married less.” Osamu replied to his older brother, “But that’s one of the shogun’s vassals’ vassals. Or somethin’ like that. So no wonder he can afford to.”

You were getting married to someone like that?

Rintarou stared at the man beside you - he was taller, stronger, and looked far older than he was, especially dressed in his plain black kimono, haori, and hakama set. The kitsune’s small hand crept up his chest and beat it lightly, as if trying to get his heart to restart itself but it just felt painful as he slowly crouched on the soil.

“You were waiting for her, weren’t ya?” Shinsuke’s calm voice spoke from behind the younger kitsune.

As much as he wanted to, Rintarou couldn’t turn away from the wedding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the smile on your red lips despite how painful it was. Words couldn’t express how badly he wanted to hug you and ask if you remembered him, to wipe the makeup from your face in the same manner he would wipe the dirt from your cheeks after you tripped into mud on those days you played together, to ask you to even talk to him once more. But he knew there was a high chance he would never see you ever again after today.

“Yeah. I was.” the boy sighed as calmly as he could, though it wasn’t hard for Shinsuke to hear the shake in his voice.

The four spirits watched as you and your new husband partook in the san san kudo, drinking sake from the three cups and officially recognising each other as spouses. Your family and friends cheered to see the completion of the ceremony. Smiles could be seen on nearly every person on the shrine grounds and as much as Rintarou hated to admit it, you wore a smile too.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have been the one to put that smile on your face.

All he could do now was to wish for your continued happiness as he passed on your prayers to the god.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Many years had passed. If he was correct, twenty summers had passed, though he wasn’t counting anymore. Twenty summers without you felt like an awfully long time, though time felt like it was flying these days. Certainly faster than the seven years before then where everyday was spent longing for you.

Rintarou noticed that the four foxes had grown taller too, though it seemed like he still had some time to grow. He had grown two new tails too. He wondered how you looked now. If he could he would have left the shrine to see you, but with the war going on more prayers were being offered than ever.

He wondered if it was foolish of him, but for nearly every day of the past twenty years, he had been clinging on to the hope that one day you would come visit him. Of course, your feelings would be different, but that didn’t matter. All he wanted was to be able to see you again.

Though he hadn’t seen you, he remembered seeing your mother come to the shrine about a year after the wedding to thank Inari for the safe delivery of your new twins. “That’s because of us!” Atsumu boasted once he heard the news (though Shinsuke insisted it was not). Aside from that, Rintarou never heard about you.

Until one day.

“Do you remember that samurai who got married to a woman from this village about twenty years ago?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“The woman passed away last week from some sickness.”

“No way…”

“Yeah, I think the old shrine maidens said she used to come to the shrine a lot as a kid to play in the woods. They liked her a lot.”

“Then it’s good they aren’t around to hear about her either…”

“Mm, I think so too.”

Rintarou’s skin turned to ice upon hearing the news. Suddenly his usual position on the rooftop no longer felt so comforting. His head pounded and his heart felt like it had stopped, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the day he first saw you.

He didn’t know what to do.

He just continued to lie on the roof, hands folded over his stomach as the once soft sky suddenly became a glaring shade of blue and white. Even if he closed his eyes, it hurt.

Everything hurt.

He continued to lay there for the next few hours, mind empty as he closed his eyes and simply thought of the sky and of you. Memories of watching the clouds, of climbing trees, of fishing in the little lake, and especially of the fireworks.

By the time he opened his eyes, Rintarou noticed the moon and stars had already taken their place. It was a sky he had only shared with you twice but somehow looking at it always made him feel comforted; knowing even if you two were far away, you were still watching the same sky, moon, and stars. Just as he said all those years ago.

But that was no longer the case.

He blinked and the twinkling stars had become blurry. Suddenly they had multiplied and the kitsune felt liquid trail down the side of his face. He laughed to himself lightly and sat up to wipe away the tears.

The once cooling wind of autumn suddenly grew a chilling bite as it blew a cloud to obscure the pale moon above.

As he looked up at the sky, he thought of how foolish he had been to cling to the hope that you would someday come back to see him, or to have fallen for you in the first place.

And oh how foolish Rintarou had been to think of the most beautiful girl he had seen whenever he looked up at the once beautiful sky.

#suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna #rintarou suna #haikyuu fanfiction #misoramsby

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askthekuvaqbrothers · 3 years

Text

It's all Fun and Games

(TW: Injury)

“I’m heading to work now.”

Hermes adjusted his coat, feeling a collision with his leg the moment he reached for the door.

“Don’t go!”

Holding in a small sigh, he knelt down and ran a hand through his son’s green hair.

“It will only be for a little while Cletus. Just be patient.”

“Then take me with you!”

“I’m going to work. It’s not a safe place for children.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll sit still!”

Hermes sighed, “You know if I take you, then the other two will want to come too.”

Cletus frowned, not at all pleased with what he was hearing, and frowned harder when his brothers came up behind him, Rufus prying at his arm.

“Come back, we can’t play Junk Knights and Orbit Pixies with only two!”

Hermes smiled, “See? You’ve obviously got a game going on. Time will fly while you’re playing, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Argus joined in, pulling Cletus’ other arm, and successfully dislodging him from their father’s leg. Unimpeded, Hermes now took his chance to leave.

“Be good.”

The door clunked shut. Pulling from his brothers grasp, Cletus considered wailing on the door and crying for Hermes to come back, but the man’s long strides probably meant he was already far from the door, and crying was just grotty and exhausting. Besides, Rufus was already grabbing at him again.

“Back to you position pixie! I was just about to battle to the death against the evil Controller.”

“Yeah, you know it’s my favourite part.” Argus grinned, punching a fist into his palm.

“I don’t wanna. Let’s… play something else.”

Rufus pouted, crossing his arms, “Like what? It’s gotta be more fun than Junk Knights.”

“What about…” Cletus looked around the house, then to the door, before a devilish smirk grew, “Hide and Seek?”

“Lame!”

“-But we play it outside.”

Rufus’ eyes lit up, but Argus put his hands on his hips.

“We’re not allowed outside without Dad.”

“Yes, but he always takes ages with work, so as long as we’re back before him, he’ll never know.”

“Yes! Let’s gooo!”

Rufus ran straight to the window in the kitchen, being the only one that opened to let out the smoke that came with Hermes’ cooking. It required him to scramble up the cooking furnace, and once he was on top and at the windowsill, he paused to offer a hand.

“Hurry up! I already have a perfect hiding place!”

Argus stepped up, accepting the hand, and allowed himself to be pulled higher. As the space on the furnace became cramped, Rufus slipped out the window and Argus in turned helped pull Cletus (and the plush toy he never let go of) up. Once they’d cleared the fall, the three made their way to the centre of town, standing by one of Gizmo’s emergency call stations.

“Right! Since you wanted to change the game, Cletus, you’re the seeker.”

“Okay. I’ll close my eyes and count to a hundred then.”

The green haired boy adjusted Poisonous into the crook of his arm, then turned and began counting.

“One, two, three, four…”

With a grin Rufus sprinted off, vanishing into the warren of a town, Argus swiftly following after. When the sound of their steps on the metal walkways went silent, Cletus stopped counting.

“Finally.” He brought Poisonous to eye level, “Now, what should we do now that we have some peace and quiet?”

The plushie’s crooked eyes stared off.

“Impeccable idea. Perhaps we could even go for refreshments.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

It must have been almost half an hour later when Argus found Cletus lounging in the shade, absently patting his plush toy. He looked up, and tried to feign surprise when he spotted the glare.

“Oh, you found me?”

“I believe you were supposed to be the seeker.”

“Is that so? I must have misheard…”

“How long were you going to sit here?”

“Don’t know, how long were you hiding?”

Argus sighed, the one that made it known he was not in the mood to play along with Cletus’ game. The green haired boy pouted in turn.

“Well I caught on to your alternate game, but Rufus is still hiding.”

“…Can’t we just wait until Dad is back? He’ll come looking for us anyway.”

He looked up to where he could just make out the entrance to the mines. Argus followed his gaze and paused, thinking.

“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. He can only ground us.”

Cletus relaxed, scooting over enough that Argus could have some shade too. Another hour passed by before they finally caught sight of Hermes striding out into the open, where the two chose to wave him down. When their father caught sight of them, he was clearly disappointed, until something else crept into his expression.

“Boys, what are you doing here? Where is your brother?!”

Cletus rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, he’s probably still hiding from our hide-and-seek game.”

“How long ago was this?!” Hermes was quickly starting to panic, Rufus being the one he knew shouldn’t be left on his own, “We need to find him.”

“Sure, I guess so.” Argus stood, dusting himself off, “If we shout that he’s won he might come out?”

Cletus reluctantly stood as well, following his father and brother as they began calling out. Rufus not coming home honestly sounded like a good deal to him; no more being hit in his sleep, no more grubby fingers going through his stuff, more peace and quiet. Sure, Argus may start demanding more of him, but it wasn’t the worst trade off.

Another 30 minutes and there was still no sign of their red-haired sibling. There was also no signs of fire and/or explosive destruction, which was both a good and a bad sign according to Hermes. Good, in that they weren’t having to deal with a destroyed town, but bad in the question of what Rufus was up to instead.

“Maybe he fell asleep?”

“Maybe he fell in a hole. Maybe it’s a really deep hole, and we’ll never see him again.”

Hermes ignored Cletus’ comment, which cause the boy to frown. He didn’t understand what the big deal was, it was just Rufus. He’d heard people say that Hermes couldn’t handle three sons, so surely it would be better if he just had two now. They should just accept he was gone and go home. The sun was right above them now and the whole mountain the town was on had begun to boil, heat waves rising off every metal sheet used in its foundation, and Cletus could feel his pale skin begin to tingle-

“Found him!”

Argus was standing on a small mound, looking down into a ditch that wasn’t visible from just the normal paths. A large piece of metal on the edge of it was also free of rust, leaving it blindingly shiny and the prefect distractor. Hermes scrambled through the scrap to reach the hiding spot, dropping down to pick up the missing boy. As he re-emerged, Cletus felt his skin crawl.

Rufus’ skin looked almost the same colour as his hair, and in places it had clearly begun to blister. The idiot had been sitting in the sun the entire time, with both the sun beating down on him and the giant reflector next time him, and he hadn’t thought to move. As he was being jostled, said fool managed to crack open an eye.

“…n’fair, -in’t say Dad could help…”

To where he promptly went limp. With a semi-strangled noise, Hermes began to move back to town, giving a brief command to the other boys to follow as they beelined for Gizmo’s clinic.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Heat stroke, and a nasty lot of sunburn. You know, there’s a wonderful thing called ‘common sense’…”

Hermes bowed his head further, ready to accept the usual lecture, but all he got was a sigh from the town’s medic as he returned to his desk.

“I’ve applied some salve to the burns, which will need to be re-applied regularly. I would like to say he’ll be bedridden for several days, but considering who we’re dealing with here, I suggest you enforce bed rest and make sure he doesn’t rub off the salve as it needs to set in. No running about, no going outside, no excessive play. And make sure he stays hydrated.”

Gizmo looked to the two healthy brothers, where while Argus nodded solemnly, Cletus’ gaze remained on the floor. There wasn’t any blame being passed about for why they were outside in the first place yet, but all Hermes had to do was ask and Argus would tell, and Cletus would find himself without dinner for the next week.

‘Stupid Rufus.’

Hermes thanked Gizmo, collected Rufus, and quietly told the other boys to follow. The whole trip home was in silence, and it was eating Cletus up inside. Even when they were inside, Argus watching over Rufus on the bed, Gizmo didn’t say anything, simply lighting the stove and beginning dinner. Cletus sat himself at the table, distractedly plucking at Poisonous’ threads, running over the many possible punishments that could be unjustly given to him. It wasn’t his fault Rufus was an idiot with no self-preservation, if he’d just hidden somewhere normal and safe then they’d all get off with just a grounding but no, he had to get himself hurt and make it a big deal and all the blame would fall on poor little Cletus for just wanting some peace and quiet-

“Are you not hungry?”

Cletus jumped, completely unaware time had passed to the point that dinner was in front of him, Argus and Hermes seated beside him.

“I-I…”

He didn’t understand why their father hadn’t asked yet. In fact, he only felt more confused when a hand rested on his head, soothingly running through his hair.

“It’s alright, I know it was kind of scary to see, but Rufus will be fine.”

This was wrong. That wasn’t his hang-up at all. Sure his own skin crawled at the sight of him now, but that wasn’t the issue. Was he really not going to ask why they were outside of the house, where he always told them not to be?

He stared into his bowl, before suddenly pushing away from the table.

“Are… are you not going to ask?”

Hermes tilted his head, “Ask?”

“W-why we were outside, why we hadn’t listened to you?” Cletus trembled, a confused jumble of emotions swirling within.

Argus eyed him, “…He wants to know why you haven’t punished us yet.”

“Punish-? Oh. Oh boys.”

Hermes carefully moved to kneel by Cletus, pulling him into a hug, before he offered an arm out for Argus to join. With two sons in his embrace, he let out a breath.

“Yes, I am disappointed you ignored my rules, and that it had led to injury, but more than that, I’m just thankful you’re all still here. I never thought I’d have a time in my life to be a father, but after everything, I now can’t imagine myself without you three.”

He squeezed them both tightly.

“I just hope that this world will last for you…”

---------------------------------------------------------

“OW! DAAAAD!”

“Cletus, don’t poke you brother.”

“But he’s trying to lick the salve again! This is the only way to stop him.”

Cletus turned back to Rufus, only to see his brothers tongue going once again for the back of his hand, so he yanked at his bright red ear.

“OW!”

Now with a dollop on his finger, Cletus sniffed at the medicinal mixture, almost daring to taste it himself.

“It doesn’t even smell that nice.”

“It smells like a plant I bit once!”

There were many things Cletus could have questioned, but he didn’t get the chance as Argus came into the house.

“Gizmo said this should help.”

Hermes accepted what Argus handed him, and after turning it over in hand, he realised how it worked. With a reluctant sigh, he knelt before Rufus, and swiftly wrapped what was essentially a plastic cone around his neck. The boy squirmed, not coordinated enough to dislodge the device, before he accepted fate.

Neither of his brothers could resist laughing at the sight.

----------------------------

Bonus: The scribble that inspired this

#Deponia #Rufus #Cletus #Argus #Hermes #Kuvaq Brothers #Gizmo #Injury #Sunburn #Back when I was musing on when I foolishly got sunburnt a few months ago

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

Text

The Wait

Warnings: This chapter deals with pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor and have never been pregnant. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Summary: Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while.

You don’t tell the guys the good news at first. Thing is, because you don’t tell them, they notice some stuff about you. Stuff like the fact that you’re getting up to pee… More often than usual. You just pass it off as drinking a lot of water - hydrating way more, it’s been a goal of yours, anyway. They let that go.

But then there is also that time Connors gets a tuna fish sub with extra mustard and relish and you nearly throw up in the middle of the bullpen. You manage to make it to the bathroom before getting sick. Borracho meets you in the hall with a bottle of water, a pack of gum and a kiss on the forehead. You take a walk around the block to get the smell out of your nose. When you get back to the office, all of the windows are wide open. You know it’s Borracho’s doing, but the guys are all ribbing Connors for bringing in the smelliest sandwich imaginable. With this distraction you manage to meet Borracho’s eye and mouth, I love you, without anyone noticing. --

The two of you have some stuff to figure out - moving into a new place is your first priority. Your current apartment just doesn’t have enough room for a baby. The two of you have been looking at a few places, have gone to a couple of open houses, but nothing has seemed like a good fit. Borracho, unsurprisingly, wants to move somewhere closer to his family. You do see the appeal - more people in close range to help with the baby. And you do love the Magalons. But you also… Kinda like having your space. And maybe that’s a little selfish of you, especially considering how much you know they’re going to offer to help you two with the baby. After your first prenatal doctor appointment, the two of you go looking at a few places. The two of you have mostly been looking at two-bedroom apartments. You see one or two that you kind of like, but the two of you agree that what you saw was not what you were looking for. You stop to grab a bite to eat - you’re getting sleepy (you’re so tired these days, but Nadia tells you that that’s normal - so does Megan… And Isobel… And Regina, and your mother), and Borracho didn’t eat before the two of you left the apartment that morning. The two of you cuddle up on the same side of a booth at a diner, and you don’t even care that you look like the kind of couple that you used to make fun of. You’re too comfortable, tucked into Borracho’s side. You’re half-asleep (“Resting my eyes, I swear,” You mumble when he accuses you of being completely asleep), and he’s scrolling through more apartment listings on his phone while you wait for your food. “Food’s here, sweetness,” He murmurs, and you vaguely register the light thunk of plates being set on the table. “You want another cup of coffee?” The waitress asks, “You look like you could use it.” And she’s right, you’d love one, but you need to start cutting back on the caffeine, so you give her a smile and ask for more water instead. “Our baby better appreciate my caffeine withdrawals,” You sigh, scrubbing at your eyes. Borracho chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They will. Hey-- Gabriel sent me a listing. You up for checking out one more when we’re done here?” You consider it for a moment as you pick up your spoon and push your oatmeal around to help it cool a bit. If Gabriel sent it, it’ll probably be quite close to the Magalons. And frankly, right now what you really want to do is go home and curl up on the couch. But you might feel better after you’ve got some food in you. So you nod. “I could go for one more.” -- It’s a condo, not an apartment. It’s got plenty of light; the bedrooms are right across the hall from one another; there’s only one bathroom, but you think you could live with that; the kitchen is much more open than the kitchen you have now. It’s a twenty minute drive to the nearest Magalon home; they’re not right on top of you and you don’t feel underfoot. “What do you think?” Borracho asks as the two of you leave. “... I really love it, but I didn’t wanna say it while we were in there. What do you think?” “I think… We should look at the listing online again and then maybe go to the bank. See what we can do about a loan.” You grin. “I would so be doing a little excited jump but I feel like if I jump right one, I am going to throw up.” “I’ve got the gum.”

-- Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while. You don’t intend to at first, really, you don’t, but they do catch on to some things - like the fact that you’re not drinking when the group of you go out for drinks after work. You just pass it off as being the designated driver for the two of you, and the guys rib Borracho, telling him to let you have some fun once in a while. You’re able to hide the slowly growing bump under your jackets and shirts and dresses. Nick officially finds out first - you schedule a meeting with him to discuss maternity leave during your fourth month. He has a straight face for a few moments before he nods and congratulates you. “Thanks,” You smile, “Who won the bet?” “Connors.” “Motherfucker, every time.” The guys won’t tell you how much the bet was for, though - they won’t even tell Borracho, which is new, and weird. But the two of you shrug it off, and the guys insist on taking the two of you out that night, and make a show of buying you rounds of seltzer.

-- “Do you want to know the sex?” You turn away from the ultrasound to look at Borracho. The two of you have been asking each other that all week. “We’ll get a bunch of yellow stuff if we don’t,” You’d pointed out, “Do we want a bunch of yellow baby stuff? Or people will buy a ton of stuff one color or the other and then be like, ‘well gosh, now you can’t use it’ if it’s the other sex-- Even though we’ll use it anyway-- Am I overthinking this?” You’d asked, looking up at him from where you were cuddled back against his chest on the couch in your new condo. He’d looked down at you, brows raised. “You are, but it’s hilarious, so, please, keep going.”

“Do you wanna know?” You ask him now, because if there’s a time to stop the technician from telling you, it’s this moment. And Borracho glances from the ultrasound to you before he shakes his head a little. “Do you?” He asks. You smile and shake your head. “We’ll wait,” You say, turning to look at the technician again.

“I love this green!” Nadia’s squealed declaration is ear-piercing, but you’re glad she approves of it. You laugh a little, watching her look around the room. You and Borracho painted the room a couple of days ago. The two of you had settled on a sage green color - not too in-your-face, but something that would be warm and welcoming. Borracho and Gabriel are out getting some of the furniture for the nursery now - the bassinet, the rocking chair, the combination changing table-dresser. Nadia’s dropped her kids off with Isobel to come over and help you guys start building some of the furniture. “You’re getting a rug?” “A small area one, yeah. Grey,” You nod. “How’s everything been?” Nadia asks, watching you lower yourself to lean against the windowsill. “Oh, it’s been…” Nadia gives you a knowing look, cutting off the, ‘being pregnant is great’ spiel you usually give the guys at work when they ask (because as sweet as it is for them to ask, they don’t really want to know). You sigh. “I’m constipated and my boobs are getting bigger.” Nadia nods, reaching out and patting your cheek. “Welcome to the club, honey.”

“Stop scratching.” “I’m not scratching.” “I saw you scratching, sweetness,” Borracho chuckles, “I’ll get the salve, get on the bed.” You don’t bicker with him. He’s been a saint - giving you a hand up to stretch when you have leg cramps, helping around the apartment more when you’re tired - and rubbing salve when your stretching belly is itchy. You lean back on the bed and pull your sleep shirt up. You sigh, giving your growing baby bump a rub. “Not scratching, huh?” Borracho teases, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, “I see irritation.” “It’s itchy,” You whine. Borracho lets out a sympathetic hum before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. You smile, watching him sit up and open the jar of salve. His sisters all swore by it - and they’d been right. It smells good, helps soothe the itch, and is a life saver. Borracho scoops out a small amount and begins to rub it in. You sigh, resting your head back against the pillows. “We still have to narrow down names,” You remind him. He hums, nodding, and you reach out to the notepad you keep on the bedside table. “Don’t drop that on your face again,” He teases as he reaches into the jar again. “You made me laugh last time, so that’s still your fault,” You argue, but you’re giggling. You flip it open, finding your list. “Mmm… Start with boy names?” You offer. “Sure, sweetness,” Borracho murmurs. “So we’ve got… Liam… Santiago… Xavier… and Giovanni.” “I don’t like Giovanni,” Borracho says, “I don't like the nickname ‘Gio’.” “Well someone’s name doesn’t necessarily dictate their nickname, Borracho,” You tease, “But I’m fine to take that one off of the list… I don’t think I like Liam so much anymore.” “Really?” “Mm. Liam Magalon. They kinda run together. LiammmMagalon.” Borracho chuckles, closing the jar of solve. “Liam’s out, then.” You reach out to the bedside table and grab the pen, crossing off Liam and Giovanni as Borracho stands up to put away the salve. “So that leaves us with...Santiago or Xavier.” “What about girls?” You turn the page. “Mmmm… Malia… Faye… and Xiomara.” “I like Malia,” Borracho flops onto the bed beside you. “Yeah?” You raise a brow, looking over at him. He nods a little. “Malia Magalon… Lia for short. Be cute.” “It would be cute,” You smile. Borracho watches you for a moment before he leans up, kissing you gently. You lower the notepad and cup his cheek, humming quietly. “Agreed, then?” He murmurs. You nod. “Malia if it’s a girl,” You murmur. “If it’s a boy?” He asks against your lips. “We’ll figure that out later,” You drop the notepad on the bedside table, reaching out to catch hold of his shirt with your other hand.

You have two baby showers. You expect one, but not the other. They’re both sort of surprises in their own way.

The first one is more traditional. It’s at Regina’s house - your friends, Borracho’s sisters, and your family are there. Borracho knows before you do that it’ll be happening. If you’re honest, you kind of suspect it. He’s on his phone all morning - you see his mom’s name, his sister’s names popping up. You don’t look too closely at the messages, but you’re suspicious when he mentions swinging by his mom’s to pick up a couple of things and asks you to tag along. He knows that the jig is up when you come out of the bedroom in a photo-ready outfit. “... Was I obvious?” He asks. “No, babe. I just know how Magalons do surprises now,” You tease, before pecking his lips, “Let’s go.” --

The second one you do not expect at all.

Nick asks you to drop a file to someone on another floor.

There’s a moment where you think, ‘Can you ask someone that isn’t seven months pregnant?’, but you take it and go. The elevator takes a stupidly long time both ways. By the time you make it back, your desk has been decorated, the guys are all standing around it, and there’s a banner hanging from the fluorescent lights that says, ‘Surprise!’

Tears fill your eyes and you cover your mouth with one hand and wave at your eyes with the other.

“She’s crying! Pay up!” Nick yells.

Borracho runs his hand over his face before directing his gaze at the ceiling.

Once you’ve calmed down, you sit at your desk and the guys give you a few gifts for the baby. Henderson passes out cupcakes (you eat yours and Borracho’s).

“You guys find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Nope. We’re flyin’ blind,” Borracho says, rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades.

“How much money is riding on it being a boy?” You ask, peeling the wrapper off of the second cupcake. The guys look between each other and you tip your head to the side.

“C’mon, if you tell me you’re not betting on it, I am so calling bullshit. Do you know?” You turn to Borracho, but he shakes his head, “Not a clue, sweetness.”

“We’re gonna let it be a surprise. You’ll see,” Nick waves it off.

“Settle down, tiny,” You grumble, looking down at your stomach, “You’ve gotta let mama sleep.”

“Kicking again?” Borracho asks.

“We’re having a soccer player,” You tell him as he comes over to the bed, “Or a can-can dancer.”

“Maybe they’ll do both, why are you trying to limit our baby?” Borracho teases you. You chuckle.

“Maybe they will-- Or maybe they hated that idea,” You wince at a particularly hard kick.

Borracho lays down on his stomach beside you and leans closer to your belly.

“No more kicking your mama, little one,” He murmurs, “We talked about this.”

You raise a brow, peering down at him from where you propped up on a small mountain of pillows.

“Did you?” You ask. He hums, nodding and rubbing a hand over your belly.

“When exactly did you have this talk?” You add, “I feel like I would’ve remembered this.”

“You were napping at the time, sweetness. This was a dad and baby talk.”

You bite your lip, fighting a wide smile.

“Do you have these talks often?”

“Sometimes.”

You reach out, running your fingers through Borracho’s hair.

“...Are you excited?” You ask. You feel like you haven’t asked since… Well, since you told Borracho that you were pregnant. He nods, looking up at you,

“A little nervous,” He admits, “But… Yeah, I’m excited. Are you?”

“Mhm. Not just because I won’t be getting kicked… from the inside, but… I wanna meet our kid.”

Borracho chuckles and sits up, placing his hands on either side of your head and bracing himself as he leans in for a kiss. You smile, reaching up and cupping his cheeks.

“... Well, thank you for the dad and baby talk. Tiny listened to you,” You glance down at your stomach.

“Mm,” Borracho lowers his head and presses a kiss to your neck, “Anytime, sweetness.”

Borracho’s at work when it happens.

You try not to panic.

You just take a deep breath and pick up your phone and call Nadia and say as calmly as you possibly can that your water broke and you need someone to drive you to the hospital. She doesn’t exactly… Answer, at first? She kinda screams - an excited one, but it doesn’t exactly calm you down.

You call Borracho after Nadia tells you that she’ll drop the kids off with Regina and be right over.

“Hey, sweetness. I just followed up with the witness Nick tracked down--”

“My water broke, Benny.”

“...Is this a drill?”

“I know that class we took recommended drills, but I was so not into that idea, it seemed alarmist.”

“Fuck-- Okay, I can--”

“It’s okay, Nadia’s on her way to get me. Just meet us at the hospital.”

“The bag’s--”

“Next to the door, I know, Benny.”

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky little laugh because you’re a little freaked out right now.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetness,” He adds gently, “You sure you don’t want me to come and get you?”

“It’s alright, Nadia’s closer. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetness.”

“She’s so small.”

“...Can’t tell if that’s you or the drugs talking, sweetness.”

“Shush. I’m just… I am just saying… She’s frickin’ tiny.”

“Babies usually are.”

“Stop ruining this for me.”

Borracho chuckles, pushing your hair back from your forehead and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. The two of you peer down at your sleeping daughter together, quiet for a few moments.

“Malia Rose Magalon,” You murmur. It’s the first time you’ve said her name aloud.

“...Lia’s got a very tiny nose,” Borracho mumbles.

You’re quiet for a moment before you glance up at him.

“Literally what was I just saying about her being small?”

When the guys come by to see you in the hospital, they have a gift bag with them.

“Guys, what even?” You nod to it.

“Well, you know those bets we had on… Whether or not you were pregnant, boy or girl, that kinda thing…” Henderson lists.

“Uh huh,” You nod.

“Here,” Nick sets the bag on the bed. Borracho carefully lifts Malia out of your arms, shushing her as she whines. You reach into the bag, pushing aside the tissue paper.

“We agreed that the pool money could all go to a… Better cause than usual,” Connors rubs at the back of his neck. You pull out a jar that’s filled with cash, labeled, ‘College Fund’.

“Figured we’d get you guys started,” Zapata adds, tucking his hands into his pockets.

There’s a moment of quiet in the room before Nick laughs, “She’s crying, pay up!”

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